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WONDER STORIES TOLD 
FOR CHILDREN Y~T¢ 


By HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN 


AUTHOR OF THE “IMPROVISATORE,” ETC. 
WITH 


ILLUSTRATIONS BY V. PEDERSEN AND M. L. STONE 


Author's Edition 


Pee VW Y ORK 
PUBLISHED BY HURD AND HOUGHTON 
Cambritge: Ribersive Press 
1878 


RIVERSIDE, CAMBRIDGE : ; 


ELECTROTYPED AND PRINTED BY sy Gam 
H. 0. HOUGHTON AND COMPANY. are 
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A ae 
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ADVERTISEMENT. 


———~@—_ 


In arranging the present series of Hans Christian Ander- 
sen’s writings, it has been found impossible to bring into the 
compass of one volume, those shorter stories and tales which 
are usually classed as stories for children. Many of the tales, 
indeed, are not addressed to the minds of children primarily, 
yet there are very few which are foreign from their interest 
and appreciation. Accordingly it has been thought best to 
collect into two volumes all of Andersen’s brief stories, tales, 
and rhapsodies, making the division correspond pretty nearly 
to that which seems to exist in the intention of the stories. 
‘Thus the present volume contains those compositions in which 
the element of wonder is especially prominent, the basis of 
very many of them being in the supernatural and superhuman. 
The other volume will contain those stories in which the basis 
is more matter-of-fact ; but as in many of Andersen’s stories 
the two elements of sense and supersense are both present, so 
much that would properly fall into this volume will be found, 
not altogether inappropriately, in the other. The two vol- 
umes together will hold all of the author’s short stories, and 
thus if any one misses in this book certain favorites, he may 
be assured that they will appear in the companion volume. 


COU. S23 
AS+4y 


OWA 


GOWN iii: 


see Aare 


THE CourRT CARDS . 5 : : : ; 
THE DRYAD . , : : ¥ : hs 
THE UGLY DUCKLING ... : \ : 
THE NIS AT THE GROCER’S . : 2 ; 
THE FIR-TREE . f : 5 : : 2 
THE MONEY-PIG, . : ‘ 4 , : 
THE SWINEHERD : i : ‘ ‘ 

JACK THE DULLARD . : : , 
THE LOVERS . ; ; . : ‘ ‘ 
THE SWIFTEST RUNNERS . Se A ' 
THE TRAVELLING COMPANION . : : 
THE MARSH-KING’S DAUGHTER .« A ‘ : 


OLE SHUT-EYE . : ‘ 4 a . : 
THE BELL’s -HeLiow .. ; : : : 
THUMBLING . sane - : : ‘ : 
THE WICKED PRINCE . X : . , 

THE SNOW-QUEEN . ‘ , A : _ 
PEN AND INKSTAND . ; : a 
LITTLE CLAUS AND Bic CrLaus : ; : ; 
THE GIRL WHO TROD UPON BREAD . : 

THE EMPEROR’S NEW CLOTHES : ; 4 ‘ 


THE LITTLE SEA-MAID. ; : : Y 4 
THE FARM-YARD COCK AND THE WEATHER-COCK 
THE ELFIN MouND . 5 ; : : é 
SOUP MADE OF A SAUSAGE-STICK . ¥ : ; 
THE WILD SWANS yn GALoRgae Sa Bla MGS 
THE BEETLE . ; : : i tie ‘ ; 
THE GALOSHES OF FORTUNE 3 ‘ : b 
.TWELVE BY THE MAIL . A : : : 
THE GARDEN OF PARADISE . . i : ; 
THE CONSTANT TIN SOLDIER. 3 G ‘ A 
SUNSHINE STORIES ; ; h { : , 
THE STONE OF THE WISE MEN . : : : 
THE DaIsy . . : ; t : : ; 
THE SNow MAN . : : : ; ; a 


~ 


PAGE 


vl CONTENTS. 


THE NIGHTINGALE : . “ : . ; ; : ‘ 404~ 


THE SILVER SHILLING . “ : i : 9 : 4 - 416 
THE NauGHty Boy. : : ; ‘ : : - ; 424 


THE ToabD # : ; i : : x : : Pa 7 5 
THE STORKS. : : ; : : : : : 435 
THE NIS AND THE eae Be : : ; : ; ; Pa 
THE NEIGHBORING FAMILIES. ‘ : . ‘ . 442 


THE DARNING-NEEDLE . sa ere . - . : +5 2 ae 
THE Happy FAMILY . j . . : . ki s 459 


THE SUMMER-GOWK. 4 : : 2 . sv ule a «408 
THE OLD HOUSE. . mn : ; . : . : : 407 

IN THE DUCK-VARD. J : ‘ - . 3 * : « Se 

IN THE NURSERY. : 7 5 4 : e : 484 

THE FLAx é tc : Pe She Fe : : . : - 488 
THE SHADOW LANE Bi hare é n 2 . : e 493 

% THE RED SHOFS . Pa ty Soy il ode ee Ti bOO 
\. THE SNAIL AND THE Raa TREE. ‘ = : = Soe 
Ret  VETEDEE CDA SCP BONEERS (SISK 9) Aes PYG gy Aiea Pca eer ee 
Gy STE ARS OETA Ric Cie ol Te Ee Al Sea mace a 
| THE LEAP-FROG : F ¢ . : p ‘ : ¢ ey 
i EECA GEES : : * : : : d é : 2 530 
Sh THE FLYING TRUNK 2 : < - : ; - - 533 

Wie Tinpre sox. 00 0G)! thr gt een Oa net cet ea 

THE BUCKWHEAT . : . : , : . “ “ - 547 


Dee BELL. . ° : . . . : ° ‘ , 550 


WONDER STORIES 
TOLD FOR CHILDREN. 


—S ee 


PH COURT “CARDS! 


OW many beautiful things may be cut out of and pasted 

on paper! ‘Thus a castle was cut out and pasted, so 

large that it filled a whole table, and it was painted as if it 

were built of red stones. It had a shining copper roof, it had 

towers and a draw-bridge, water in the canals just like plate- 

glass, for it was plate-glass, and in the highest tower stood a 

wooden watchman. He had a trumpet, but he did not blow 
it. 

The whole belonged to a little boy, whose name was Wil- 
liam. He raised the draw-bridge himself and let it down 
again, made his tin soldiers march over it, opened the castle 
_gate and looked into the large and elegant drawing-room, 
where all the court cards of a pack— Hearts, Diamonds, 
Clubs, and Spades — hung in frames on the walls, like pic- 
tures in real drawing-rooms. ‘The kings held each a sceptre, 
and wore crowns; the queens wore veils flowing down over 
their shoulders, and in their hands they held a flower or a fan ; 
the knaves had halberds and nodding plumes. 

One evening the little boy peeped through the open castle 
gate, to catch a glimpse of the court cards in the drawing- 
room, and it seemed to him that the kings saluted him with 
their sceptres, that the Queen of Spades swung the golden 
tulip which she held in her hand, that the Queen of Hearts 
lifted her fan, and that all four queens graciously recognized 
him. He drew a little nearer, in order to see better, and that 
made him hit his head against the castle so that it shook. 
Then all the four knaves of Hearts, Diamonds, Clubs, and 

I 


2 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


Spades, raised their halberds, to warn him that he must not 
try to get in that way. 

The little boy understood the hint, and gave a friendly nod ; 
he nodded again, and then said: “Say something!” but the 
knaves did not say a word. However, the third time he 
nodded, the Knave of Hearts sprang out of the card, and 
placed himself in the middle of the floor. 

“What is your name?” the knave asked the little boy. 
“You have clear eyes and good teeth, but your hands are 
dirty : you do not wash them often enough!” 

Now this was rather coarse language, but, of course, not 
much politeness can be expected from a knave. He is only a 
common fellow. 

““My name is William,” said the little boy, ‘and the castle 
is mine, and you are my Knave of Hearts! ” 

“No, [ am not. I am my king’s and my queen’s knave, 
not yours!” said the Knave of Hearts. “I am not obliged 
to stay here. I can get down off the card, and out of the 
frame too, and so can my gracious king and queen, even more 
easily than I. We can go out into the wide world, but that is 
such a wearisome march ; we have grown tired of it ; it is 
more convenient, more easy, more agreeable, to be sitting in 
the cards, and just to be ourselves ! ” 

“Have all of you really been human beings once?” asked 
little William. 

“Human beings!” repeated the Knave of Hearts. “ Yes, 
we have ; but not so good as we ought to have been! Please 
now light a little wax candle (I like a red one best, for that is 
the color of my king and queen) ; then I will tell the lord of 
the castle — I think you said you were the lord of the castle, 
did you not ?—our whole history ; but for goodness’ sake, 
don’t interrupt me, for if I speak, it must be done without any 
interruption whatever. I am in a great hurry! Do you see 
my king, I mean the King of Hearts? He is ‘the oldest of 
the four kings there, for he was born first, —- born with a 
golden crown and a golden apple. He began to rule at once. 
His queen was born with a golden fan; that she still has. 
They both were very agreeably situated, even from infancy. 
They did not have to go to school, they could play the whole 


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LHES COURT CARDS: 5 


day, build castles, and knock them dowa, marshal tin soldiers 
for battle, and play with dolls. When they asked for buttered 
bread, then there was butter on both sides of the bread, and 
powdered brown sugar, too, nicely spread over it. It was the 
good old time, and was called the Golden Age ; but they grew 
tired of it, and so did I. Then the King of Diamonds took 
the reins of government!” 

The knave said nothing more. Little William waited to 
hear something further, but not a syllable was uttered ; so 
presently he asked, — “ Well, and then?” 

The Knave of Hearts did not answer ; he stood up straight, 
silent, bold, and stiff, his eyes fixed upon the burning wax 
candle. Little William nodded; he nodded again, but no 
reply. Then he turned to the Knave of Diamonds ; and when 
he had nodded to him three times, up he sprang out of the 
card, in the middle of the floor, and uttered only one single 
word, — 

“Wax candle ! ” 

Little William understood what he meant, and immediately 
lighted a red candle, and placed it before him. Then the 
Knave of Diamonds presented arms, for that is a token of 
respect, and said : — 

“Then the King of Diamonds succeeded to the throne! 
He was a king with a pane of glass on his breast ; also the 
queen had a pane of glass on her breast, so that people could 
look right into her. For the rest, they were formed like other 
human beings, and were so agreeable and so handsome, that a 
monument was erected in honor of them, which stood for seven 
years without falling. Properly speaking, it should have stood 
forever, for so it was intended ; but from some unknown rea- 
sons, it fell.” Then the Knave of Diamonds presented arms, 
out of respect for his king, and he looked fixedly on his red 
wax candle. 

But now at once, without any nod or invitation from little 
William, the Knave of Clubs stepped out, grave and proud, 
like the stork that struts with such a dignified air over the 
green meadow. The black clover-leaf in the corner of the 
card flew like a bird beyond the knave, and then flew back 
again, and stuck itself where it had been sticking before. 


6 ANDERSEN'S WONDER STORIES. 


And without waiting for his wax candle, the Knave of Clubs 
spoke : — 

“Not all get butter on both sides of the bread, and brown 
powdered sugar on that. My king and queen did not get it. 
They had to go to school, and learn what they had not learnt 
before. They also had a pane of glass on their breasts, but 
nobody looked through it, except to see if there was not some- 
thing wrong with their works inside, in order to find, if possi- 
ble, some reason for giving them a scolding! I know it; I 
have served my king and queen all my life-time ;. I know every- 
thing about them, and obey their commands. They bid me 
say nothing more to-night. I keep: silent, therefore, and pre- 
sent arms!” 

But little William was a kind-hearted boy, so he lighted a 
eandle for this knave also, a shining white one, white like 
snow. No sooner was the candle lighted, than the Knave of 
Spades appeared in the middle of the drawing-room. He 
came hurriedly ; yet he limped, as if he had a sore leg. In- 
deed, it had once been broken, and he had had, moreover, 
many ups and down in his life. He spoke as follows : — 

‘““My brother knaves have each got a candle, and I shall 
also get one; I know that. But if we poor knaves have so 
much honor, our kings and queens must have thrice as much. 
Now, it is proper that my King of Spades and my Queen of 
Spades should have four candles to gladden them. An addi- 
tional honor ought to be conferred upon them. Their history 
and trials are so doleful, that they have very good reason to 
wear mourning, and to have a grave-digger’s spade on their 
coat of arms. My own fate, poor knave that I am, is deplora- ' 
‘ ble enough. In one game at cards, I have got the nickname 
of ‘ Black Peter /’* But alas! I have got a still uglier name, 
which, indeed, it is hardly the thing to mention aloud,” and 
then he whispered, — “In another game, I have been nick- 
named ‘ Dirty Mads /’* 1, who was once the King of Spades’ 


1 Black Peter is the name of a game in Denmark,'where it is called 
“Sorte Peer,” the word sorte denoting black. When the cards are dealt, 
he who happens to get the Knave of Spades is all the evening nicknamed 
Black Peter by his fellow players, who paint his face black. 

2 Dirty Mads is another Danish game. JZads is a name almost exclu- 
sively in use amongst the peasantry. 


GHEPCOC RL CARDS. 7 


Lord Chamberlain! Is not this a bitter fate? The history of 
my royal master and queen I will not relate ; they don’t wish 
me to do so! Little lord of the castle, as he calls himself, 
may guess it himself if he chooses, but it is very lamentable, — 
O, no doubt about that! ‘Their circumstances have become 
very much reduced, and are not likely to change for the bet- 
ter, until we are all riding on the red horse higher than the 
skies, where there are no haps and mishaps !” 

Little William now lighted, as the Knave of Spades had 
said was proper, three candles for each of the kings, and three 
for each of the queens ; but for the King and Queen of Spades 
he lighted four candles apiece, and the whole drawing-room 
became as light and transparent as the palace of the richest 
emperor, and the illustrious kings and queens bowed to each 
other serenely and graciously. The Queen of Hearts made 
her golden fan bow; and the Queen of Spades swung her 
golden tulip in such a way, that a stream of fire issued from it. 
The royal couples alighted from the cards and frames, and 
moved in a slow and graceful minuet up and down the floor. 
They were dancing in the very midst of flames, and the knaves 
were dancing too. 

But alas! the whole drawing-room was soon in a blaze; the 
devouring element roared up through the roof, and all was one 
crackling and hissing sheet of fire ; and in a moment little 
William’s castle itself was enveloped in flames and smoke. 
The boy became frightened, and ran off, crying to his father 
and mother, — “ Fire, fire, fire! my castle is on fire!” He 
grew pale as ashes, and his little hands trembled like the 
aspen-leaf. ‘The fire continued sparkling and blazing, but in 
the midst of this destructive scene, the following words were 
uttered in a singing tone : — 

“ Now we are riding on the red horse, higher than the skies ! 
This is the way for kings and queens to go, and this is the way 
for their knaves to go after them!” 

Yes! that was the end of William’s castle, and of the court 
cards. William did not perish in the flames; he is still alive, 
and he washed his small hands, and said: “ I am innocent of 
the destruction of the castle.” And, indeed, it was not his . 
fault that the castle was burnt down. 


8 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


THE DRYAD: 


A WONDER STORY OF THE TIME OF THE EXHIBITION IN 
PARIS, 1867. 


E are going to Paris to see the Exhibition. 
Now we are there! It was a journey performed 
without witchcraft we went by steam, in a ship, and on a 
country road. Our time is the time of wonder stories. 

Now we are in the midst of Paris, in a large hotel. Flowers 
adorn the staircase, and soft carpets are spread over the steps. 
Our room is.a pleasant one ; the door to the balcony stands 
open, and we look out upon an open square. Down there 
lives Spring, who was driven to town in a wagon. He arrived 
at the same time with us ; he came in the shape of a slender 
young chestnut-tree, with opening leaves. Look, how beauti- 
fully the tree is dressed in spring’s elegant robe, finer than all 
the other trees on the square ; one of them, I see, has just 
stepped out of the row of living trees, and there it lies with its 
roots torn up and thrown mercilessly upon the ground ; here 
where this tree stood will the chestnut-tree be planted, and 
there it will grow. 

As yet, the chestnut-tree stands erect upon the heavy cart 
which brought it here this very morning from the country, a 
distance of a good many miles. There it grew, and lived its 
young life close to an old oak. ‘To this old oak was the piovs 
old pastor wont to come and sit under its shading branches, 
and tell over and over again his stories to the listening chil- 
dren. ‘The young chestnut-tree was, of course, among the list- 
eners. 

The Dryad within this tree was then yet a child; she could 
remember so far back, when the chestnut-tree was so small 
that it scarcely could peep over the grass-blades and other 
small plants. ‘These were then as large as they ever would 
be, but the tree grew and became bigger every year, drinking 
air, and sunshine, and dew, and rain. Many times was it 
shaken and bent hither and thither by the powerful winds. 
This was a part of its education. 


ZHE .DRYAD. 9 


The Dryad was pleased with her life, and the company of 
the sunshine, and the songs of birds; yet the human voice 
she liked best, for she knew the language of men as well as 
that of the animals, butterflies, cock-chafers, and bumble-bees. 
Everything that could fly or creep paid her a visit, and every 
one of them that came.would gossip. ‘They talked about the 
farms, the village, the woods, the old castle, with its park: in 
that were dikes and canals, and down in their waters dwelled 
also living beings, that could fly, in their own way, under water 
from place to place, beings with a will and with skill, but they 
never said anything: they were too wise. The swallow, which 
had dived down into the water, told her of the pretty gold- 
fishes, the fat bream, the sturdy perch, and the old moss- 
grown crucian. ‘The swallow gave a very fair description, but 
it is always much better to go and look for one’s self. 

But how could the Dryad ever be able to see all these things 
with her own eyes? She had to be satisfied with her view of 
the beautiful landscape, and to listen to the buzz of human 
industry as it passed by her. Charming as all this was, there 
was something better ; and that was when the old pastor told 
of France there under that oak-tree, and of the great deeds 
done by men and women whose names are remembered through 
all time with admiration. ‘The Dryad thus heard of the shep- 
herdess Joan of Arc, of Charlotte Corday ; she heard of times 
much farther back, and of Henry the Fourth and Napoleon I., 
yes, she even heard of the ability and greatness of our own 
time ; she heard of names, every one of which resounded deep 
in the heart of the people. France is the world’s country, the 
world’s gathering-place of genius, with the Crater of Liberty 
in its midst. 

The village children listened attentively, the Dryad not less 
so; she was a schoolmate of them all. In the shapes of the 
sailing clouds, she would see picture after picture of those 
things that she had heard about. 

The cloud-heaven was her picture-book. She thought she 
was very happy in this. beautiful France, yet she began to 
think that the birds and everything that could fly were much 
more favored by fate than she was. Even a fly could look far 
beyond our Dryad’s horizon. Beautiful France was so exten- 


IO ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


sive, yet she could only see a very small portion of it. World- 
wide was the extent of her lands, with their meadows, forests, 
and cities, and of the last, Paris was the most glorious, the 
mightiest! ‘Thither the birds could fly, but not she. 

There was then among the village children a little girl. She 
was very ragged and poor, but very fair to look upon for all 
that. And she was always singing and laughing, and she tied 
red flowers in her black hair. 

“Don’t go to Paris,” said the good old pastor ; “ poor child, 
if you do go there, it will be your ruin! ” 

And yet she went. The Dryad thought very often of her ; 
they both had the same longing and desire to see the great 
city. 

Spring came, and summer came, autumn and winter passed 
by, and thus a few years went. The Dryad’s tree produced its 
first chestnut blossoms, the birds were chirping and chatting 
about them in the brilliant sunlight. 

Once it so happened that a grand carriage, with a noble 
lady in it, came driving that way: she herself drove the beau- 
tiful and fiery horses. A little footman in livery sat behind. 
The Dryad recognized her ; the old pastor recognized her: 
he shook his head and said mournfully, — “Thou didst go 
there : it proved thy ruin, poor Mary!” 

“ She poor!” thought the Dryad’; “it cannot be! Whata 
change! She is dressed like a duchess: that’s what she came 
to in the city of enchantment. O if I could only get there and 
live in all that splendor and magnificence! the light and glory 
of that city reaches even up to the skies —just above there 
where I know the city stands.” And in that direction would | 
the Dryad look every evening, all night. There she saw the 
brilliant streak of light along the horizon. In the bright and 
clear moonlight night she missed it very much, and missed the 
sailing clouds that pictured to her the great city and its his- 
tory. 

Children take to their picture-books. The Dryad took to 
her cloud-book — that was her book of thoughts. The balmy, 
cloudless sky was to her a blank leaf, and at this time she had 
not seen such a one for several days ; it was summer time, 
with hot, sultry days, without a cooling breeze; every flower, 


THE DRYAD. Tat 


every leaf was drooping, and men hung their heads. The 
clouds drew together and were lifted up, as it happened, at 
that corner where the night announced, with a brilliant sheen, 
“rere. is Paris.” 

The clouds rolled up and above each other, forming them- 
selves into mountains ; they made their way through the air 
and spread themselves over the whole landscape as far as the 
Dryad could see. ‘They were heaped in mighty blue-black 
boulders, layer above layer, rising high in the air, and then 
. flashes of light came flying out from them. “These are also 
God our master’s servants,’ had the old pastor said. And 
forth came a great, blue, brilliant light, a blaze of lightning, 
that tried to look like the sun himself ; it shattered the bould- 
ers. : 

The lightning had struck down — struck the mighty old oak- 
tree, splitting it to tle very roots, — shattered the crown, parted 
its stem. ‘The old tree fell down: it fell as if spreading itself 
to receive the messenger of light. Not even the biggest gun 
could so roar through the air and over the land at the birth of 
a king’s child, as the thunder did there at the decease of the 
old oak-tree, the king of the forest. Now the rain poured 
down, a refreshing breeze sprang up, the storm had passed, a 
sacred calm rested upon the country. The village people 
came gathering around the old oak, the venerable pastor 
spoke a few words in its praise, a painter drew a sketch of the 
old tree for a memento. 

“Everything goes away,” said the Dryad, “goes away, as 
the clouds go, never to return.” 

Never again came the pastor there. The roof of the school- 
house had fallen, the pulpit was broken. The children came 
no more, but autumn came, and winter came, and then also 
spring. During the whole of this time were the Dryad’s eyes 
directed towards that spot where, every evening and night, far 
away on the horizon, Paris shone like a radiant belt. Out of 
Paris leaped locomotive after locomotive, one train after an- 
other, whistling and thundering, and that at all times. At all 
times of the day, in the evening, at midnight, did trains arrive, 
and out of these and into them did people from all the lands 
of the world crowd. A new wonder of the world had called 
them to Paris. How did this wonder exhibit itself? 


I2 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


“A gorgeous flower of art and industry,” they said, “has 
sprung up from the barren sands of the Champ de Mars. It 
is a giant sunflower, out of the leaves of which one can study 
geography, statistics, general information; become inspired 
by art and poetry, learn the greatness and products of every 
country.” ‘ A marvelous flower it is,” said others ; “a large 
lotus-plant, that spreads its green leaves, shot up in early 
spring, as widely as a threshing-floor. Summer will see it in 
all its glory, and the autumn storms will blow it away, that 
neither leaves nor roots will remain. In front of the military 
school stretches the arena of war in time of peace —a field 
without grass or flower, a piece of the desert cut out from a 
wilderness in Africa, where Fata Morgana shows her myste- 
rious air castles and suspended gardens. ‘There, upon the 
Champ de Mars, were they still more brilliant, more strange, 
than as visions only.” “The palace of the modern Aladdin 
is erected,” said others. “ Day after day, hour after hour, does 
it unfold more and more of its new splendor.” 

The boundless halls shine in marble and colors. The giant 
with no blood in his veins, moves his steel and iron limbs here 
in that great outer circle. Works of art, in metal and stone, 
loudly proclaim the powerful life of the mind that labors in all 
the lands of the world. Here is picture-gallery and flower- 
show ; and everything that hand and mind can create in the 
workshops of the mechanic is here placed on exhibition. 
Even old castles and peat-bogs have contributed their relics 
of antiquity. ‘The overpowering, gorgeous show must be pic- 
tured in miniature and squeezed into the compass of a toy 
before we can comprehend and see it in its entirety. 7 

Upon the Champ de Mars stood, as upon a big Christmas 
table, Aladdin’s castles of art and industry ; around these 
castles were placed toys from every country, toys of grandeur ; 
every nation found a memento of its home. 

Here was the palace of the Egyptian king ; there, a cara- 
vanserai from the desert. The Bedouin rode past: he came 
from the land of the sun ; and here was a Russian stable, with 
beautiful, fiery horses, brought from the plains. ‘There stood 


1 The machinery at the Exhibition was placed in the outer circle, and 
was kept in operation. — ED. 


THE DRYAD. be 


the small, straw-thatched Danish peasant-house, with its Dane- 
brog’s flag, neighbor to Gustavus Vasa’s neat wooden cottage 
from Dalarne. American block-houses, English cottages, 
French pavilions, kiosks, churches, and theatres, were all 
spread about in a wonderful manner. And then, in the mid- 
dle of all this, there was the green turf, there was clear run- 
ning water, there were flowering shrubs, rare trees, glass 
houses where one might imagine one’s self to be in a tropic 
_ forest. Complete rose-gardens, brought here from Damascus, 
bloomed in their glory under glass roofs. What colors, what 
fragrance! Stalactite caverns, artificially made, containing in 
fresh and salt water ponds specimens of various fishes ; it was 
like standing on the shore of the ocean, among fishes, and rep- 
tiles, and polyps. 

So they talked, and said that all these things were now ex- 
hibited on the Champ de Mars, and that all over this festive 
board crawled an immense crowd of human beings, like a 
swarm of ants on a journey ; they either went on foot or were 
drawn in little wagons. Not every man’s legs can stand the 
fatigues of such endless wandering. 

From the earliest rays of dawn till late at night they are 
wandering to that field. Steamer after steamer, crowded full 
with men, glides down the river Seine. The crowd of car- 
riages increases continually, the multitude of people on foot 
and on horseback increases, all public conveyances are 
crammed, are stuffed, are fringed over with human beings ; 
and all these various streams move towards one goal — the 
Paris Exhibition. 

Every entrance is decorated with a French flag, and all 
around the walls of the great bazaar for all countries float the © 
flags of the different nations. A burring and a buzzing con- 
tinually sounds from the hall of machines ; down from the 
towers come the ring of chimes ; organs sound their voices in 
the churches, mingled with the hoarse and nasal strains from 
the Oriental coffee-houses. It is all a Babel empire, a Babel 
language, a world’s wonder. 

I assure you that all this was really so; at least so the story 
goes, and who has not heard of it? The Dryad knew it all, 
she knew all that has here been said of the wonder of the 


14 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


world in the great city of cities. ‘ Hurry, all ye birds, fly 
thither and see, and then come back and tell me all about it,” 
was the Dryad’s prayer. 

The longing grew till it became a wish, and that grew to be 
the thought of her life, and then — 

The full moon was shining on that silent, solemn night, and 
from her dial there came forth (this the Dryad saw) a spark, 
bright, like a falling star, and it fell at the foot of the tree, 
whose branches began to shiver as if shaken by a gust of 
wind, and then there stood a shining being. It spoke with a 
voice as clear and loud as a dooms-day’s trumpet, which kisses 
to life and calls to judgment. “Thou shalt become free to go 
to the city of enchantments ; thou shalt there take root, get 
acquainted with the buzzing streams, the air, and the sunshine 
there, but thy life-time will be shortened; the long row of 
years that were awaiting thee here in God’s open fields will 
shrink to a small sum. Poor Dryad, it will be thy ruin. Thy 
longing will grow, thy desire, thy craving become louder, the 
tree itself will become a prison to thee. Thou wilt leave thy 
shelter, cast off thy nature; thou wilt fly out and mix with 
men, and then thy years will shrivel into the half of a day-fly’s 
life-time, to one night only. The light of thy life will be blown 
out, the tree will pine away, the leaves will wither, never to 
return.” 

Thus rang the words, thus sang the voice. and the shining 
being disappeared, but not the Dryad’s longing and desire ; 
she trembled in expectation, in a violent fever of anticipated 
enjoyment. With exultation she exclaimed, — 

“Life is going to commence, floating, like the clouds, 
whither no one knows.” At early dawn, when the moon grew 
pale and the skies red, came the time of fulfillment ; the words 
of promise were to be verified. ‘There came people armed 
with spades and pickaxes ; they dug clear around the roots of 
the tree, they dug down right under them; then there came a 
cart drawn by two horses, and they lifted the tree with its 
roots and the earth they clung to out of the ground, and 
wound mats around them, making a warm foot-bag, and then 
they put the tree upon the cart and tied it securely, because 
it was now to go on a journey to Paris, and it was to stay there 
and grow in the great city of France, in the city of cities. 


LHE:, DRYAD; [5 


The branches and leaves of the chestnut-tree shook and 
trembled when they commenced digging. The Dryad trem- 
bled, but with the rapture of expectation. 

“Forward, forward!” sounded every pulse beat. “ For- 
ward, forward!” rang the trembling words of desire. ‘The 
Dryad forgot, in her happiness, to take leave of her home- 
stead’s surroundings, of the swaying grass-blades and the 
innocent daisies that had looked up to her as to a great lady 
in our Father’s garden, a young princess that played shepherd- 
ess here in the country. 

At last the chestnut-tree was upon the cart, nodding with its 

branches “ farewell,” or “forward.” ‘The Dryad knew it not ; 
she only thought of and dreamed about the new unknown, and 
yet well-known, which should now unfold itself. No guileless 
heart of an innocent child was ever more filled with thought, 
than she was on her journey to Paris. 
No farewell, but always, “ Forward, forward!” ‘The cart- 
wheels turned ceaselessly round and round, the far away. grew 
into near by, and then was left behind. The country changed, 
as her clouds changed. New fields, woods, farms, villas, and 
gardens came in sight. The chestnut-tree moved on, the 
Dryad moved forwards with it. Locomotive after locomotive 
went dashing by her. ‘The locomotives blew clouds that took 
shapes of beings, who spoke of Paris, the place they came 
from, whither the Dryad was going. 

As a matter of course, everything around her knew what 
way she was going. She was aware that every tree that she 
passed stretched out its branches toward her and begged, 
“Take me along with you: take me also.” There lives in 
every tree a longing Dryad. 

What wonderful changes! It seemed as if the houses 
came springing right out of the ground, more and more, 
closer and closer. Chimney-pots came up, as if so many 
flower-pots had been placed behind one another and along- 
side each other upon the houseroofs. Large inscriptions, with 
letters a yard long, had the sorceress painted upon the walls ; 
they reached to the roof and glittered brightly. 

“Where does Paris begin, and when will I come to it?” 
thought the Dryad. Soon the crowd of people increased, the 


16 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


tumult and noise grew louder. Carriage followed carriage, 
people went on foot and rode on horseback, and on each side 
of her were shops, and all about sounded music, song, talking, 
and screeching. 

Now the Dryad, in her tree, had arrived in the middle of 
Paris. 

The heavy cart stopped in an open place where some trees 
were planted ; all around were high houses ; every window had 
a balcony of its own, from which people looked down upon that 
young, fresh chestnut-tree which came driving in a cart ; it was 
destined to be planted there in the place of a dying, uprooted 
tree that lay outstretched upon the ground. People that came 
passing by stopped awhile, smiling upon that fresh, green piece 
of early spring. The older trees, whose leaves were yet 
scarcely budding, nodded their welcome to her with rustling 
branches: ‘‘ Welcome, welcome!” said they; and the fountain 
which played with its water in the air, that fell prattling down 
again:into the wide basin, permitted the wind to carry a few 
drops to the newly arrived tree, offering her a welcome drink. 

Then the Dryad perceived how its tree was taken down 
from the cart and put in its place of destination. After that 
the roots were carefully covered with earth, and covered with 
fresh green sward. Shrubs were also planted, and earthen 
pots dug down with flowers in them. 

And thus quite a nice garden appeared in the centre of the 
square. The uprooted and dying tree, filled with bad-smell- 
ing gas and drainage air, and all the rest of the plant-torturing 
air of the city, was thrown upon a cart and carried away. 
The crowd looked on, children and old people sat about in 
the green, looking through the fresh leaves. And we, that 
talk all about this, stood on the balcony, looking down upon 
the young tree just arrived from the fresh country air, and said 
what the old pastor would have said, had he been there, 
“Poor Dryad !” 

“Happy am I, and thrice happy,” said the Dryad; “and 
yet I cannot quite comprehend it. I cannot speak what I 
feel ; it seems all to be as I imagined it, and yet it is not quite 
what I thought it would be.” 

The houses were so high, so near. The sun only shone 


THE DRYAD. 17 


upon one wall, and that was covered with handbills and 
placards, around which the people would crowd and throng. 
Carriages drove by, big and small, light and heavy : omnibuses, 
like moving houses, filled to overflowing, came rattling by. 
Drays and gigs insisted upon having the same right. 

“ But will not,” thought the Dryad, — “ will not these over- 
grown houses that stand so oppressively near, also take them- 
selves off and make room for other shapes and forms, as the 
clouds of heaven do? Why don’t they slip aside, that I may 
get a glimpse into Paris, and far beyond Paris?” She wanted 
to see Notre Dame, the Vendome Column, and the many 
works of wonder, that had called and were calling so many 
people there. But the houses would not move from their 
places. ‘The lanterns were lit when it was yet quite daylight. 
Brilliant rays of gas came bursting forth from all the shop 
windows, and lighting up the trees and their branches, so that 
it almost looked like summer’s sunlight. But the stars above 
looked exactly the same as the Dryad had seen them at home. 
She thought she felt a breeze, so pure and balmy. A feeling 
of new strength came over her, and she felt it communicated 
to the very tips of the leaves and roots. Now she knew that 
she was within the living world of men, looked upon with 
tender eyes ; there were tumult, tones, colors, and light all 
around her. | 

Wind instruments sent their tones to her from the cross 
streets ; hand-organs, with feet-stirring melodies, were inde- 
fatigable. Yes, to dance, to dance to pleasures and amuse- 
ment did they invite. It was a music that might make men, 
horses, carriages, trees, and houses dance, if they only knew 
how. All this created an intoxicating desire for enjoyment in 
the Dryad’s heart. 

‘What a blessed life I lead! how beautiful this all is!” ex- 
claimed she in the highest glee: “I am in Paris.” 


The day that came, the night that followed, and then the 
next day, brought the same show, the same turmoil, the same 
life, changing, but always the same changes. 

“ By this time I really know every tree, every flower, on this 


place ; I know every house, balcony, and shop here, where 
2 


18 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


they have stuck me, in this little corner, in which I can see 
nothing of the great city. Where are the arches of triumph, 
the Boulevards, and that world’s wonder? Nothing of all this 
am I able to see. I am imprisoned here among these high 
houses, which I know by heart, with their inscriptions, placards, 
handbills, and all the painted dainties, for which I have lost 
all appetite. Where is that of which I heard them speak, 
which I have known and longed for, and for which I wanted 
to come here? What have I got, what gained, what found? 
I long as I did before. I have a consciousness of a life I 
wish to lead. I want to be among the living and move with 
them ; I want to fly like a bird, see and feel, and become like 
a human being: I would rather live but the half of a day, than 
spend a life of years in daily idleness, in which I sicken, sink, 
and fall, ike a rush ina meadow. I want to sail along like 
- the clouds, bathe in the sun of life, look down upon all below 
as the clouds do, and go away as they do, nobody knows 
whither.” 

This was the Dryad’s sigh, going up in a prayer : — 

“'Take all my years of life; give me but the half of a day ; 
set me free from my prison; grant me human life, human 
happiness, though it be but for a short time —for only this 
night, and punish me if thou wilt for my longing — for my in- 
expressible longing for life. Give me freedom, give me liberty, 
even if this dwelling of mine, this fresh and youthful tree, 
wither, be cut down, be converted into ashes, and blown about 
by the winds.” 

A rustling went through the branches of the tree ; a strange 
sensation crept over it ; the leaves shivered: it was as if sparks 
of fire were leaping forth from them; a gust of wind shook 
the crown of the tree; and then issued forth a being —the 
Dryad herself. Amazed, she found herself sitting beneath the 
green boughs, rich with leaves and lit up by a thousand gas 
flames from all around — sitting there, young and handsome 
as poor Mary, to eer it had been said, — “Alas! the ee 
city will be thy ruin.’ 


The Dryad sat at the foot of the tree, at the door of her 
house, which she had locked and then had thrown the key 


LHEDERVAD: 19 


away. So young, so handsome! The stars saw her, the stars 
were twinkling ; the gas flames saw her, they were beaming, 
beckoning to her; how slender she was, and yet so strong; a 
child, and yet a young woman. Her dress was glossy like 
silk, green as the fresh leaves on the top of the tree. In 
her nut-brown hair stuck a half-opened flower of the chestnut- 
tree. She looked a very goddess of spring. 

A moment there, and then she bounded off like a gazelle, 
off around the corner ; she danced and skipped like the ray 
that is darted from a mirror, like the sunbeam thrown, now 
here, now there, according to the motion of the glass; and if 
one looked sharp, and was able to see what could be seen, he 
would have thought it marvelous. Whenever she rested 
awhile, the color-of her dress and of her form was changed, 
according to the nature of the place where she stood and the 
lights that fell upon her. 

She arrived on the Boulevards ; there was a complete ocean 
of light from gas lamps, stores, and cafes. Here were rows 
of trees, young and slender, whose Dryads received their share 
of the artificial sunlight. The sidewalk seemed to be one 
large parlor, with tables containing all sorts of refreshments, 
from Champagne and Chartreux down to coffee and beer; 
here too were exhibitions of flowers, statues, and pictures, 
and there were books, and many other interesting things. 

From the steps of the high houses she looked down upon 
the streams roaring along under the rows of trees. There was 
an ever-swelling and ebbing tide of rolling wagons, cabriolets, 
chariots, omnibuses, coaches, of men riding on horseback, and 
of marching regiments. Life and limb were in danger if any 
one attempted to cross to the other side. Now a blue light 
was shining brightest, then the gas-lights were most brilliant, 
and suddenly a rocket went up — whence? whither ? 

This must be the great highway of the world’s great city. 
Now she listened to some delightful Italian music. Now to’ 
Spanish songs, accompanied by castanets; but the melodies 
from Minutet’s musical box drowned every other sound, that 
stirring Cancan music which Orpheus never knew and the 
beautiful Helen’‘never heard. I think the very wheelbarrows 
would have danced on their one wheel had they known how. 


20 ANDERSEN'S WONDER STORIES. 


But the Dryad did dance; she whirled and soared, changing 
colors like a humming-bird in sunlight, for every house, with 
its interior, was reflected upon her. 

As the glorious flower of the lotus, torn from its roots, is 
carried away by the river in its whirls, so was the Dryad 
rushed along, and when she stopped she changed into another 
form; therefore, nobody could follow, none recognize her. 
Everything passed by like cloud-pictures, face after face, of 
which she recognized none, and no familiar being of home 
appeared to her. 

Before her mind came two beaming eyes: she thought at 
once of Mary, poor Mary! the handsome, gay child, with the 
red flowers in her black hair— was she not in the world’s 
great city, rich and charming as she passed in the carriage the 
house of the pastor, the Dryad’s own tree, and the old oak? 
Surely, she must be in this deafening uproar, perhaps had just 
alighted from that magnificent carriage waiting there. Bril- 
liant carriages, with richly gallooned coachmen and servants, 
were drawn up in a row. The great folks alighting from 
them were all ladies — beautifully dressed ladies. ‘They went 
through the open, trellised porch, ascended the broad and 
high steps that led into that imposing building with marble 
columns. Was this, perhaps, the great wonder of the world ? 
And there Mary must surely be ! 

Sancta Maria! she heard singing there; clouds of frankin- 
cense were rolling forth from under the high arch, painted and 
gilt, where twilight reigned. It was the Church of the Made- 
leine. 

Dressed all in black of the most costly material, made after 
the finest and latest fashion, the ladies of the aristocracy 
stepped over the polished floor. Coats of arms blazed forth 
from the clasps of magnificent prayer-books, and were em- 
broidered upon strongly perfumed handkerchiefs lined with 
costly Brussels lace. A few of the women bent kneeling in 
silent prayers before the high altar, others went to the con- 
fessor’s box. The Dryad felt very uneasy, as if she ought not 
to be in this place. It was the house of silence, the great hall 
of mystery and secrecy. Everything was spoken in whispers 
and confided in soundless words. 


PHL DK VAL. a1 


The Dryad became aware that she also was wrapped up in 
a black silken veil, resembling the other noble ladies of the 
empire. Was every one of them a child of longing and desire 
like herself ? : 

A deep sigh was heard through the silence— deep and 
fraught with pain ; whence came it — from the confessional, 
or from the bosom of the Dryad? She drew the veil closer 
about her. The breath she drew was church incense, not the 
fresh and moist air. She felt that this was not the place she 
longed for. 

“Forward, forward! without rest ; the insect of a day’s life 
has no rest: her flight is her life.” 


The Dryad was out again under the gas chandeliers: and 
fountains. ‘ 

“ Not all the jets from the fountain can wash away the blood 
of the innocents slain here.” 

These words were spoken. Here she heard strangers speak 
very loud and lively, which nobody dared to do in the great 
hall of secrecy from which the Dryad had just come. 

She saw a big stone slab being turned — why, she did not 
understand ; but she went near and looked down an opening 
into the depth of the earth. Down the descent they went, 
leaving the starlit sky, the brilliant gas flames, and all the liv- 
ing life. 

“Jam afraid! I dare not go down. I care little to see all 
the wonders there ; stay here with me!” 

“ And go home?” said a man; “leave Paris without hav- 
ing seen the most remarkable thing, the wonder-work of 
modern times?” she heard voices say. 

The Dryad heard and understood it. Now the goal of her 
greatest longing was reached at last, and here was the en- 
trance, down to the deep, down, under Paris. This she could 
never have thought, but she saw it, and saw the strangers de- 
scend, and she followed. 

The steps were made of cast-iron, spiral-shaped, broad, and 
comfortable ; a lamp gave a dim light, and deeper down an- 
other. She found herself in a labyrinth of endless halls and 
vaults, crossing each other. All the streets and lanes of Paris 


22 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


were clearly seen there, as if reflected in a looking-glass. One 
could read the names of them, and every house above had 
here its number, its root, that shot down under the lonely 
macadamized sidewalk, and was squeezing its course along a 
wide canal with its onward rolling drainage. Above this was 
the aqueduct of the fresh and running water, and again, above 
this, hung, like a net-work, gas pipes and telegraph wires. 
Further on shone lamps, as if they were refracted images from 
the world’s city above. Now and then a rumbling noise was 
heard overhead ; it came from the heavy wagons that drove 
over the bridges of descent. 

Where was the Dryad? 

You have heard of the catacombs: they are nothing com- 
pared to this world under ground, this wonder of our times, 
the Cloacas of Paris. ‘There was the Dryad, and not in the 
World’s Exhibition on the Champ de Mars. 

Exclamations of astonishment, admiration, approbation, were 
heard all around. 

“Out of the deep here,” they said, “ grows now health and 
long life for thousands above. Our time is the time of prog- 
ress with all its blessings.” 

This was the opinion of men, men’s talk, but not that of the 
scavengers that built, lived, and fed here — the rats; they 
piped from cracks in a piece of an old stone wall so distinctly 
as to be understood by the Dryad. A tall and old tail-bitten 
rat piped in a shrill voice his misgivings, his afflictions, and 
the only idea his mind held; and his whole family approved 
of every word he said. 

“IT am deeply oppressed by the miau, the human miau, of 
intolerable ignorance. No doubt everything is very fine now, 
with gas and petroleum; I do not eat such things. It has 
become so clean here now, and so light, that one sits and is 
ashamed, and don’t know what one is ashamed of. I wish we 
lived in the good old times of the goblins ; they are not so far | 
back, those times, — those romantic times as they are called.” 

“What are you talking about?” asked the Dryad; “I have 
never seen you before. What are you speaking of? ” 

‘““Of the glorious old days!” said the rat; “great-grand- 
father and great-grandmother rat’s time of youth. In those 


THE DRYAD. 23 


times it was a great undertaking to come down here. That 
was the time for rats all over Paris! Pestmother used to 
dwell down here then: she killed men, but never rats. Rob- 
bers and smugglers hatched their plans here unmolested. 
Then this was the asylum for the most interesting characters I 
ever saw, personages that one only sees now upon the melo- 
dramatic stages. The romantic time has passed away, even 
with us rats ; we have got fresh air — and petroleum.” 

In this strain did the rats pipe, — piped over the new times, 
piped in honor of the good old time with its pestmother. 

By this time they came to a carriage, a sort of omnibus, 
drawn by two ponies. ‘The company entered and drove along 
the Boulevard Sebastopol — that is, upon the one under- 
ground ; right above in Paris was the well-known Boulevard, 
always overflowing with human beings. 

The wagon disappeared in the twilight; the Dryad disap- 
peared also, but came to light again under the glare of the gas 
flames in the open air. Here was the wonder to be found, 
and not in the crossing and recrossing vaults and their damp 
atmosphere ; here she found the world’s wonder which she had 
looked for during her short life-time. There it was, bursting 
forth in far richer. glory than all the gas-lights above, much 
stronger than the moon, which was silently gliding along. 

And she saw it greeting her, winking and twinkling, like 
Venus in the vault of heaven. 


She observed a brilliant porch opening into a garden, filled 
with light and dance music. She saw artificial lakes and 
ponds, surrounded by water-plants artistically made of tinsel, 
bent and painted ; they threw water-jets up in the air from 
their chalices, that sparkled like diamonds in the brilliant 
light. Graceful weeping willows — real, spring-clad, weeping 
willows —let their fresh green branches, like a transparent 
veil, hang in curving waves. A burning bowl among the 
shrubbery threw its red light over half-lit love bowers, through 
which magic tones of music rushed, thrilling the ears, fooling 
and alluring and chasing the blood through the limbs of human 
beings. 

Young women did she see, beautiful, and in evening dress, 


24 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


with confiding smiles on their lips, and with the carelessness — 
of youth and laughing mirth. A “ Mary,” with roses in her 
hair, but without carriage or footman. How they rolled and 
swung in that wild dance! what was up, and what was down? 
They jumped, they laughed and smiled, as if bitten by a taran- 
tula ; they looked so happy, so gay, as if ready to embrace the 
whole world out of pure enjoyment. 

The Dryad felt herself irresistibly drawn into the dance. 
Her small, delicate foot was encased in a silken shoe, chest- 
nut-brown, like the ribbon that came fluttering from her hair, 
down upon her uncovered shoulders. ‘The green skirt envel- 
oped her in large folds, but did not hide the beautifully shaped 
legs and her pretty feet, that seemed intent upon describing 
the magic circle in the air, in front of her dancing cavalier’s 
head. Was she in Armida’s enchanted garden? What was 
the name of this palace? In blazing jets the gas flames out- 
side said, — AZabille. 

With shouts, clapping of hands, rockets, running water, to- 
gether with popping of champagne bottles, the dance was 
bacchanalian ; and then, above all this, in the serene sky, 
sailed the moon, a shining ship in the shape of a face. ‘The 
sky was clear and pure, without a cloud, and one thought of 
looking right into heaven from Mabille. 

A consuming, intoxicating sensation seized the Dryad, like 
the effect from opium. Her eyes talked, her lips spoke, but 
her words were not heard, drowned by the tones of flute and 
violin. Her cavalier whispered words in her ears, that rolled — 
on with the time of the ,cancan ; she understood them not, we 
do not understand them. He stretched his arms out toward 
her, around her, and embraced only the transparent, gas- 
filled air. The Dryad was carried away by the wind, as he 
carries a rose-leaf; and when high in the air she saw a flame 
right ahead, a brilliant light, at the top of a tower. This light 
now surely came from the goal of her longing, shining from 
the red fire-tower upon the “Fata Morgana” of the Champ 
de Mars, and thither was she carried by the spring breeze. 
She whirled several times around that tower ; the workmen 
thought it was a butterfly that came fluttering down to die, 
having left its chrysalis too early in spring. 


LAE DRVAD. 25 


The moon was shining, and so were the gas-lights and the 
lanterns in the large halls of the outspread buildings ; they 
were shining upon the grass-covered hills, and upon the rocks 
put there by human skill, where waterfalls were precipitated 
by “ Bloodless’s” powers ‘The depth of the ocean, and the 
fresh-water rivers, the empire of the fishes, were laid open 
here. One imagined oneself to be down at the bottom of the 
deep, —down in the ocean, in a diving-bell. The water 
pressed hard toward the thick glass walls. Polyps, fathom- 
long, flexible, eel-like, quivering, living thorns, whose arms 
took hold, swaying up and down, grown fast to the bottom of 
the sea. 

A large flounder was lying close by in deep thought, spread- | 
ing himself with great comfort. A crab was crawling over 
him, like a hideous monster-head ; but the shrimps moved 
about swiftly and restlessly, as if they were ocean’s moths and 
butterflies. 

In the fresh-water aquaria grew many beautiful plants ; gold 
fishes had arranged themselves in rows, like red cows on a 
pasture ; they all poked their heads in one direction, for the 
purpose of getting the flow of the stream in their mouth. The 
thick and fat tenches were staring with their dull eyes at the 
glass walls; they knew they were in the Paris Exhibition ; 
they knew they had made a fatiguing journey in vessels filled 
with water; that they had been on a railroad, had become 
land-sick, as men become sea-sick upon the ocean. ‘They had 
also come to see the Exhibition, and they saw it from their 
own salt or fresh water, and looked upon the swarms of men, 
that passed by all day long, from morning to night. All the 
lands of the world had sent their human specimen there, in 
order that the old bream, the strong perch, and the moss- 
grown carps, might see these creatures, and give their opinion 
about these different tribes. 

“ Man is a scale-fish,” said a small fish, “and changes his 
scales two or three times a day; they give mouth sounds, — 
speak, they call it. We do not change, and we make ourselves 
understood in a much easier way, by the motions of the cor- 
ners of our mouths, and a stare with our eyes. We have 
many advantages over men.” 


26 ANDERSEN'S WONDER STORIES. 


“Vet they have learned how to swim,” said a fresh-water 
fish. “I hail from the great inland lake, and there men go 
into the water during the hot summer days ; but before they 
do this, they strip off their scales, and then they swim. The 
frogs have taught them to do that; the hind-legs push and the 
fore-legs row; but they cannot stand it long. They think they 
can resemble us, poor things ; but it wouldn’t do.” 

And the fishes stared ; they imagined that the same crowd 
of people that they had seen come in at daylight, was still 
there ; they really thought that those shapes were the same 
that beat upon their nerves of observation from the very first 
day. 

A small perch, with a pretty tiger-skin, and an enviable 
round back, said he was assured that the mother of men was 
there ; he had seen her. 

“T have seen her also, and that very plainly,” said a gold- 
colored tench. ‘She was a beautiful, well-shaped human 
being ; she had our mouth-corners and staring eyes, two bal- 
loons in the back, a down hanging umbrella in front, a breath- 
ing curtain, and dingle dangle. I think, verily, she ought to 
throw off all that stuff, and go as we do, according to Nature’s 
command ; and then she would look like an honorable tench, 
that is, so far as man can be like us.” ?} 

“What has become of him— that laced one — the he- 
man?” they asked. 

“He drove about in a chair, he sat there with paper, ink, 
and pen in his hands, and wrote everything down. What was 
he about? They called him a journalist.” 

“Look! there he is, driving yet,’ said a moss-grown old 
maid crucian, with a bit of the world’s temptation sticking in 
her throat, so that she was quite hoarse. She once swallowed 
a fish-hook, and since that she is swimming about in humility, 
with the hook in her throat. 

“ Journalist !” said she: “ that is said like a fish, and prop- 
erly understood, it’s a sort of cuttle-fish among men.” 

And thus the fishes went on talking in their own way. But 
within this artificial and. water-filled cove, sounded yet the 


1 The Tench evidently saw a lady dressed in the height of the prevail- 
ing fashion. — Eb. 


LHL VR VAL. a 


blows of hammers and the songs of artisans; they had to 
make use of the night, in order to get everything ready soon. 
These were songs in the Dryad’s sunmer night dreams ; she 
herself stood there, again to fly away and disappear. 

“There are gold-fishes !” she exclaimed, nodding at them. 
“JT am glad to have been allowed to see them. Yes, I do 
know you, and have known you a long while! The swallow 
told me about you in my own country home. How pretty and 
shiny, and how charming you are! I could kiss you, every 
one of you! I know the others also ; this must be a crucian, 
and that is the delicate bream, and there swims the old moss- 
covered carp. I know you, but you do not know me!” | 

The fishes stared ; they understood her not ; they gazed in 
their dim twilight. . 

The Dryad was gone; she was in the open air, where the 
wonder-flower of the world exhaled its fragrance from many 
lands: from the rye-bread land, from the cod-fish coas*, the 
Russia-leather country, the eau de cologne river-bed, and rose- 
oil orient. 


When, after a ball, we drive home in our carriage, the melo- 
dies we have heard continue to ring in our ears for some time; 
Wwe may sing every one of them again, and, as in the slain 
man’s eye the last impression which the eye had received re- 
mains photographed for some time, so remained yet the im- 
press of the day’s tumult and brilliancy upon the eye of night; 
it was neither absorbed nor blown away. The Dryad per- 
ceived it, and knew that it would thus continue to buzz quite 
into the morrow. 


Now the Dryad was in the midst of fragrant roses ; she 
thought she knew them, and that they were all from her own 
country ; the roses from the castle’s park and the pastor’s 
garden. 

She also recognized the red pomegranate ; just such a one 
had Mary worn in her coal-black hair. The memory of her 
childhood’s home in the country came twinkling in her 
thoughts ; eagerly she drank in with her eyes the wonderful 
sights around her, while a feverish longing seized her, and 


2 8 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


carried her through the marvelous halls. She felt tired, and 
the fatigue increased. She felt a strong desire to rest upon 
the soft, outspread oriental cushions, or dive into the pure 
water, as the branches of the weeping willows did. 

But the insect of a day has no rest ; a few minutes, and the 
day would close. Her thoughts quivered, her limbs trembled, 
she sank down in the grass beside the babbling water. 

“Thou springest from the earth with true life,” she said ; 
“cool my tongue, give me a refreshing drink.” 

“T am no living brook,” said the water. “I run by ma- 
chine.” 

“Give me some of thy freshness, thou green grass,” begged 
the Dryad ; “ give me one of thy fragrant flowers.” 

“We shall die, if we are torn from our plant,” answered 
grass-blade and flower. 

“Give me a kiss, thou cooling breeze ; only a single kiss 
upon my lips!” 

“The sun will soon kiss the clouds red,” said the wind, 
“and then thou shalt be with the dead, gone, as all this mag- 
nificence will be gone before the year is out. And then I can 
again play with the light, loose sand upon this place, blow the 
dust all over the earth, dust in the air, and nothing but dust.” 

The Dryad felt an anguish coming over her, like the 
woman that, in a bath, having severed an artery, and bleeding 
to death, wishes still to live, while her strength, from loss of 
blood, leaves her. She got up, advanced a few paces, fell 
down again in front of a little church. The gate was open, 
light was burning on the altar, and the organ sang. What 
heavenly music! such tones had the Dryad never heard 
before, and yet she seemed to recognize well-known voices. 
They came from the depth of creation’s great heart. She 
thought she heard the humming in the old oak-tree, and heard 
the old pastor talk of great deeds of men of great fame, and 
what God’s creations might give to the coming time, would 
give, and therewith itself win eternal life. ‘The organ’s tones 
became stronger and louder; they sang, and spoke in the 
song : — 

“Thy longing and desire tore thy roots from the place God 
had given them: it became thy ruin, poor Dryad !” 


THE DRYAD. 29 


The organ’s tones grew soft, and gentle ; they sang plain- 
tively, and died away weeping. ‘The clouds in the sky began 
to redden. The wind whispered and sang: “Go away, ye 
dead, the sun is rising.” 

His first ray fell upon the Dryad ; her figure was radiant, 
changing colors, like a soap-bubble just before it. bursts, 
vanishes, becomes a drop, a tear, that falls upon the earth, 
and leaves nothing behind. 

Poor Dryad, a dew-drop, only a tear, wept, and dried up! 

The sun shone upon the Champ de Mars; Fata Morgana 
shone over great Paris, over the little square, with a few trees 
and a prattling fountain ; over the high houses, where the 
chestnut-tree stood, its branches hanging, its leaves dried up, — 
the tree that only yesterday stood erect and fresh, resembling 
spring himself. ‘ Now it is dead,” said people ; the Dryad 
had left it, passed away like the clouds, none knows whither. 

And low upon the earth there lay a withered, broken chest- 
nut-flower. ‘The holy water of the church could not recall it 
_ to life again. Man’s foot soon stepped upon it, and crushed 
it in the dust. 


All this has happened and been lived through. We our- 
‘selves have seen it, at the time of the Paris Exhibition, in 
1867, —in our time, in the great and wonderful time of Fairy. 


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THE-UGLY DUCKLING. 


T was so glorious out in the country ; it was summer; the 
| corn-fields were yellow, the oats were green, the hay had 
been put up in stacks in the green meadows, and the stork 
went about on his long red legs, and chattered Egyptian, for 
this was the language he had learned from his good mother. 
All around the fields and meadows were great forests, and in 
the midst of these forests lay deep lakes. Yes, it was right 
glorious out in the country. In the midst of the sunshine 
there lay an old farm, with deep canals about it, and from the 
wall down to the water grew great burdocks, so high that little 
children could stand upright under the loftiest of them. It 
was just as wild there as in the deepest wood, and here sat a 
Duck upon her nest ; she had to hatch her ducklings ; but she 
was almost tired out before the little ones came ; and then she 
so seldom had visitors. The other ducks liked better to swim 
about in the canals than to run up to sit down under a bur- 
dock, and cackle with her. 

At last one egg-shell after another burst open. “ Piep! 
Piep !” it cried, and in all the eggs there were little creatures 
that stuck out their heads. 


THE UGLY DUCKLING. a1 


“Quack! quack!” they said ; anid they all came quacking 
out as fast as they could, looking all round them under the 


green leaves ; and the mother let them look as much as they | 


chose, for green is good for the eye. 

“How wide the world is!” said all the young ones, for they 
certainly had much more room now than when they were in 
the eggs. | 

“D’ye think this is all the world?” said the mother. 
“That stretches far across the other side of the garden, quite 
into the parson’s field ; but I have never been there yet. I 
hope you are all together,” and she stood up. “No, I have 
not all. The largest egg still lies there. How long is that to 
last? I am really tired of it.” And she sat down again. 

“Well, how goes it?” asked an old Duck who kad come to 
pay her a visit. 

“It lasts a long time with that one egg,” said the Duck who 
sat there. “It will not burst. Now, only look at the others ; 
are they not the prettiest little ducks one could possibly see ? 
They are all like their father: the rogue, he never comes to 
see me.” : 

“Let me see the egg which will not burst,” said the old 


visitor. ‘“ You may be sure it is a turkey’s egg. I was once. 


cheated in that way, and had much anxiety and trouble with 
the young ones, for they are afraid of the water. Must I say 
it to you, I could-not get them to venture in. I quacked and 
I clacked, but it was no use. Let me see the egg. Yes, that’s 
a turkey’s egg. Let it lie there, and teach the other children 
to swim.” | 

“T think I will sit on it a little longer,” said the Duck. 
“T’ve sat so long now that I can sit a few days more.” 

“Just as you please,” said the old Duck; and she went 
away. : 

At last the great egg burst. “Piep! piep!” said the little 
one, and crept forth. It was very large and very ugly. The 
Duck looked at it. 

“Tt’s a very large duckling,” said she ; “ none of the others 
look like that: can it really be a turkey chick? Well, we 
shall soon find out. It must go into the water, even if I have 
to thrust it in myself.” 


32 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


The next day, it was bright, beautiful weather ; the sun shone 
on all the green trees. ‘The Mother-Duck went down to the 
canal with all her family. Splash! she jumped into the water. 
“Quack! quack! she said, and one duckling after another 
plunged in. The water closed over their heads, but they came 
up in an instant, and swam capitally ; their legs went of them- 
selves, and they were all in the water. The ugly gray Duck- 
ling swam with them. 

“ No, it’s not a turkey,” said she ; “look how well it can 
use its legs, and how straight it holds itself. It is my own 
child ! On the whole it’s quite pretty, if one looks at it rightly. 
Quack ! quack! come with me, and I'll lead you out into the 
great world, and present you in the duck-yard ; but keep close 
to me, so that no one may tread on you, and take care of the 
cats!” | 

And so they came into the duck-yard. ‘There was a terrible 
riot going on in there, for two families were quarreling about 
an eel’s head, and the cat got it after all. 

«See, that’s how it goes in the world!” said the Mother- 
Duck ; and she whetted her beak, for she too wanted the eel’s 
head. ‘Only use your legs,” she said. “See that you can 
bustle about, and bow your heads before the-old Duck yonder. 
She’s the grandest of all here ; she’s of Spanish blood — that’s 
why she’s so fat ; and d’ye see? she has a red rag round her 
leg ; that’s something particularly fine, and the greatest dis- 
tinction a duck can enjoy: it signifies that one does not want 
to lose her, and that she’s to be known by the animals and by 
men too. Shake yourselves — don’t turn in your toes ; a well 
brought-up duck turns its toes quite out, just like father and 
mother, —so!, Now bend your necks and say ‘ Quack !’” 

And they did so: but the other ducks round about looked 
at them, and said quite Welt 

“Look there! now we’re to have these hanging on, as if 
there were not enough of us already! And— fie !— how that 
Duckling yonder looks; we won’t stand that!” And one 
duck flew up at it, and bit it in the neck. ; 
‘Let it alone,” said the mother ; “it does no harm to any 
one.” f 

“Ves, but it’s too large and peculiar,” said the Duck who 
had bitten it; “and therefore it must be put down.” 


PULAU GLY. DUCKLING. 33 


“Those are pretty children that the mother has there,” said 
the old Duck with the rag round her leg. “ They’re all pretty 
but that one ; that was rather unlucky. I wish she could bear 
it over again.” 

‘“<’That cannot be done, my lady,” replied the Mother-Duck. 
“Tt is not pretty, but it has a really good disposition, and 
swims as well as any other; yes, I may even say it, swims 
better. I think it will grow up pretty, and become smaller in 
time ; it has lain too long in the egg, and therefore is not 
properly shaped.” And then she pinched it in the neck, and 
smoothed its feathers. ‘‘ Moreover it is a drake,” she said, 
“and therefore it is not of so much consequence. I think he 
will be very strong: he makes his way already.” 

“The other ducklings are graceful enough,” said the old 
Duck. “Make yourself at home; and if you find an eel’s 
head, you may bring it me.” 

And now they were at home. But the poor Duckling which 
had crept last out of the egg, and looked so ugly, was bitten and 
pushed and jeered, as much by the ducks as by the chickens. 

“Tt is too big!” they all said. And the turkey-cock, who 
had been born with spurs, and therefore thought himself an 
emperor, blew himself up like a ship in full sail, and bore 
straight down upon it; then he gobbled and grew quite red 
in the face. The poor Duckling did not know where it should 
stand or walk ; it was quite melancholy because it looked ugly, 
and was the butt of the whole duck-yard. 

So it went on the first day ; and afterwards it became worse 
and worse. ‘The poor Duckling was hunted about by every 
one ; evenits brothers and sisters were quite angry with it, and 
said, “If the cat would only catch you, you ugly creature !” 
And the mother said, “If you were only far away!” And the 
ducks bit it, and the chickens beat it, and the girl who had to 
feed the poultry kicked at it with her foot. 

Then it ran and flew over the fence, and the little birds in 
the bushes flew up in fear. 

“That is because I am so ugly!” thought the Duckling ; 
and it shut its eyes, but flew on further; and so it came out 
into the great moor, where the wild ducks lived. Here it lay 
the whole night long ; and it was weary and downcast. 

3 


34 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


Towards morning the wild ducks flew up, and looked at 
their new companion. ~ 

“What sort of a one are you?” they asked ; and the Duck- 
ling turned in every direction, and bowed as well as it could. 
“You are remarkably ugly!” said the Wild Ducks. “ But 
that is nothing to us, so long as you do not marry into our 
family.” 

Poor thing ! it certainly did not think of marrying, and only 
hoped to obtain leave to lie among the reeds and drink some 
of the swamp water. 

Thus it lay two whole days; then came thither two wild 
geese, or, properly speaking, two wild ganders. It was not 
long since each had crept out of an egg, and that’s why they 
were So saucy. 

“Listen, comrade,” said one of them. “You're so ugly 
that I like you. Will you go with us, and become a bird of 
passage? Near here, in another moor, there are a few sweet 
lovely wild geese, all unmarried, and all able to say ‘Rap?” 
You've a chance of making your fortune, ugly as you are.” 

“ Piff! paff!” resounded through the air; and the two 
ganders fell down dead in the swamp, and the water became 
blood red. “ Piff! paff!” it sounded again,-and the whole 
flock of wild geese rose up from the reeds. And then there 
was another report. A great hunt was going on. ‘The sports- 
men were lying in wait all round the moor, and some were 
- even sitting up in the branches of the trees, which spread far 
over the reeds. The blue smoke rose up like clouds among 
the dark trees, and was wafted far away across the water; and 
the hunting dogs came — splash, splash !— into the swamp, 
and the rushes and the reeds bent down on every side. That 
was a fright for the poor Duckling! It turned its head, and 
put it under its wing ; but at that moment a frightful great dog 
stood close by the Duckling. His tongue hung far out of his 
mouth, and his eyes gleamed horrible and ugly ; he thrust out 
his nose close against the Duckling, showed his sharp teeth, 
and — splash, splash ! —-on he went, without seizing it. 

“OQ, Heaven be thanked!” sighed the Duckling. “I am 
so ugly, that even the dog does not like to bite me !” 

And so it lay quite quiet, while the shots rattled through the 


PHSB UGLY DUCKLING. 35 


reeds and gun after gun was fired. At last, late in the day, 
all was still ; but the poor Duckling did not dare to rise up ; 
it waited several hours before it looked round, and then 
hastened away out of the moor as fast as it could. It ran on 
over field and meadow ; there was such a storm raging that 
it was difficult to get from one place to another. 

Towards evening the Duck came to a little miserable 
peasant’s hut. ‘This hut was so dilapidated that it did not 
itself know on which side it should fall ; and that’s why it re- 
mained standing. ‘The storm whistled round the Duckling in 
such a way that the poor creature was obliged to sit down, to 
stand against it ; and the wind blew worse and worse. Then 
the Duckling noticed that one of the hinges of the door had 
given way, and the door hung so slanting that the Duckling 
could slip through the crack into the room ; and that is what 
it did. 

Here lived a woman, with her Cat and her Hen. And the 
Cat, whom she called Sonnie, could arch his back and purr, 
he could even give out sparks ; but for that one had to stroke 
his fur the wrong way. The Hen had quite little short legs, 
and therefore she was called Chickabiddy Shortshanks ; she 
laid good eggs, and the woman loved her as her own child. 

In the morning the strange Duckling was at once noticed, 
and the Cat began to purr and the Hen to cluck. 

“ What’s this ? ” said the woman, and looked all round ; but 
she could not see well, and therefore she thought the Duckling 
was a fat duck that had strayed. “This is a rare prize!” she 
said. “‘ Now I shall have duck’s eggs. I hope it is not a 
drake. We must try that.” 

And so the Duckling was admitted on trial for three weeks ; 
but no eggs came. And the Cat was master of the house, 
and the Hen was the lady, and always said “We and the 
world!” for she thought they were half the world, and by far 
the better half. The .Duckling thought one might have a 
different opinion, but the Hen would not allow it. 

“Can you lay eggs?” she asked. 

66 No.” 

“Then will you hold your cee ang 

And the Cat said, “Can you curve your back, and purr, and 
give out sparks?” 


36 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


NO. 

“Then you will please have no opinion of your own when 
sensible folks are speaking.” 

And the Duckling sat in a corner and was melancholy ; then 
the fresh air and the sunshine streamed in ; and it was seized 
with such a strange longing to swim on the water, that it could 
not help telling the Hen of it. 

“What are you thinking of?” cried the Hen. “ You have 
nothing to do, that’s why you have these fancies. Lay eggs, 
or purr, and they will pass over.” 

“ But it is so charming to swim on the water!” said the 
Duckling, “so refreshing to let it close above one’s head, and 
to dive down to the bottom.” 

“Ves, that must be a mighty pleasure, truly,’’ quoth the 
Hen. “I fancy you must have gone crazy. Ask the Cat 
about it, — he’s the cleverest animal I know, — ask him if he 
likes to swim on the water, or to dive down: I won’t speak 
about myself. Ask our mistress, the old woman; no one in 
the world is cleverer than she. Do you think she has any de- 
sire to swim, and to let the water close above her head ? ” 

“You don’t understand me,” said the Duckling, 

‘We don’t understand you? Then pray who is to under- 
stand you? You surely don’t pretend to be cleverer than the 
Cat and the woman —I won’t say anything of myself. Don’t 
be conceited, child, and thank your Maker for all the kindness 
you have received. Did you not get intoa warm room, and 
have you not fallen into company from which you may learn 
something ? But you are a chatterer, and it is not pleasant to 
associate with you. You may believe me, I speak for your 
good. I tell you disagreeable things, and by that one may 
always know one’s true friends! Only take care that you 
learn to lay eggs, or to purr, and give out sparks!” 

“T think I will go out into the wide world,” said the Duck- 
ling 

eVes, do ob, ireplied thesiden, 

And so the Duckling went away. It swam on the water, 
and dived, but it was slighted by every creature because of its 
ugliness. 

Now came the autumn. The leaves in the forest turned 


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THEVOUGLY ,/ DUCK LING: 39 


yellow and brown ; the wind caught them so that they danced 
about, and up in the air it was very cold. ‘The clouds hung 
low, heavy with hail and snow-flakes, and on the fence stood 
the raven, crying, “ Croak ! croak!” for mere cold; yes, it was 
enough to make one feel cold to think of this. The poor little 
Duckling certainly had not a good time. One evening — the 
sun was just setting in his beauty — there came a whole flock 
of great, handsome birds out of the bushes ; they were daz- 
zlingly white, with long, flexible necks ; they were swans. They 
uttered a very peculiar cry, spread forth their glorious great 
wings, and flew away from that cold region to warmer lands, 
to fair open lakes. ‘They mounted so high, so high! and the 
ugly Duckling felt quite strangely as it watched them. It 
turned round and round in the water like a wheel, stretched 
out its neck. towards them, and uttered such a strange, loud 
cry as frightened itself. O1!it could not forget those beauti- 
ful, happy birds ; and so soon as it could see them no longer, 
it dived down to the very bottom, and when it came up again, 
it was quite beside itself. It knew not the name of those 
birds, and knew not whither they were flying ; but it loved 
them more than it had ever loved any one. It was not at all 
envious of them. How could it think of wishing to possess 
such loveliness as they had? It would have been glad if only 
the ducks would have endured its company —the poor, ugly 
creature ! 

And the winter grew cold, very cold! The Duckling was 
forced to swim about in the water, to prevent the surface from 
freezing entirely ; but every night the hole in which it swam 
about became smaller and smaller. It froze so hard that the 
icy covering crackled again ; and the Duckling was obliged to 
use its legs continually to prevent the hole from freezing up. 
At last it became exhausted, and lay quite still, and thus froze 
fast into the ice. 

Early in the morning a peasant came by, and when he saw 
what had happened, he took his wooden shoe, broke the ice- 
crust to pieces, and carried the Duckling home to his wife. 
Then it came to itself again. The children wanted to play 
with it ; but the Duckling thought they wanted to hurt it, and 
in its terror fluttered up into the milk-pan, so that the milk 


4O ANDERSEN'S WONDER STORIES. 


spurted down into the room. ‘The woman clasped her hands, 
at which the Duckling flew down into the butter-tub, and then 
into the meal-barrel and out again. How it looked then} 
The woman screamed, and struck at it with the fire-tongs ; the 
children tumbled over one another in their efforts to catch the 
’ Duckling; and they laughed and they screamed ! — well it 
was that the door stood open, and the poor creature was able to 
slip out between the shrubs into the newly-fallen snow — there 
it lay quite exhausted. 

But it would be too melancholy if I were to tell all the 
misery and care which the Duckling had to endure in the hard 
winter. It lay out on the moor among the reeds, when the 
sun began to shine again and the larks to sing: it was a beau- 
tiful spring. 

Then all at once the Duckling could flap its wings: they 
beat the air more strongly than before, and bore it strongly 
away ; and before it well knew how all this happened, it found 
itself in a great garden, where the elder-trees smelt sweet, and 
bent their long green branches down to the canal that wound 
through the region. O, here it was so beautiful, such a glad-. 
ness of spring! and from the thicket came three glorious white 
swans ; they rustled their wings, and swam lightly on the 
water. The Duckling knew the splendid creatures, and felt 
oppressed by a peculiar sadness. 

“T will fly away to them, to the royal birds! and they will 
beat me, because I, that am so ugly, dare to come near them. | 
But it is all the same. Better to be killed by ¢kem than to be 
pursued by ducks, and beaten by fowls, and pushed about by 
the girl who takes care of the poultry yard, and to suffer hunger 
in winter!” And it flew out into the water, and swam towards 
the beautiful swans: these looked at it, and came sailing 
down upon it with outspread wings. “Kill me!” said the 
poor creature, and bent its head down upon the water, expect- 
ing nothing but death. But what was this that it saw in the 
clear water? It beheld its own image; and, lo! it was no 
longer a clumsy dark-gray bird, ugly and hateful to look at, 
but a— swan! 

It matters nothing if one is born in a duck-yard, if one has 
only lain in a swan’s egg. 


THE UGLY DUCKLING. AT 


It felt quite glad at all the need and misfortune it had 
suffered, now it realized its happiness in all the splendor that 
surrounded it. And the great swans swam round it, and 
stroked it with their beaks. 

Into the garden came little children, who threw bread and 
corn into the water ; and the youngest cried, “There is a new 
one!” and the other children shouted joyously, ‘‘ Yes, a new 
one has arrived!” And they clapped their hands and danced 
about, and ran to their father and mother ; and bread and cake 
were thrown into the water ; and they all said, ‘“‘ The new one 
is the most beautiful of all! so young and handsome!” and 
the old swans bowed their heads before him. 

Then he felt quite ashamed, and hid his head under his 
wings, for he did not know what to do; he was so happy, and 
yet not at all proud. He thought how he had been persecuted 
- and despised ; and now he heard them saying that he was the 
most beautiful of all birds. Even the elder-tree bent its 
branches straight down into the water before him, and the sun 
shone warm and mild. Then his wings rustled, he lifted his 
slender neck, and cried rejoicingly from the depths of his 
heart, — 

“T never dreamed of so much happiness when I was the 
Ugly Duckling!” 


42 THE NIS AT THE GROCER’S. 


THEY NISVALY THE? GROCERS, 


HERE was once a Student—a proper Student; he 
lived in an attic, and owned just nothing at all. There 
was also a Grocer — a proper Grocer ; he lived in a comforta- 
ble room, and owned the whole house. So the Nis? clung to 
the Grocer, for the Grocer could give him, every Christmas 
Eve, a bowl of groats, with such a great lump of butter in it! 
The Student could not afford him that; so the Nis dwelt in 
the shop, and was right comfortable there. 

One evening the Student came by the back-door into the 
shop to buy candles and cheese ; he had no servant to send, 
and so he came himself. ‘They gave him what he wanted, he 
paid the money, and the Grocer, and Madam, his wife — she 
was a woman! she had uncommon gifts of speech ! — both 
nodded “Good evening” to him. The Student nodded in 
return, and was turning away, when his eye fell upon some- 
thing that was printed on the paper in which his cheese was 
wrapped, and he stood still to read it. It was a leaf torn out 
of an old book, a book that ought never to have been torn up,, 
a book full of rare old poetry. 

“Plenty more, if you like it,” quoth the Grocer; “I gave 
an old woman some coffee-beans for it; you shall have the 
whole for eight skillings.” ? 

“Thank you,” said the Student, “let me have it instead of 
the cheese, I can very well sup off bread and butter, and it 
would be a sin and a shame for such a book as this to be torn 
up into scraps. You are an excellent man, a practical man, 
but as for poetry, you have no more taste for it than that 
tub!” 

Now this speech sounded somewhat rudely, but it was 
spoken in jest ; the Student laughed, and the Grocer laughed 
too. But the Nis felt extremely vexed that such a speech 
should be made to a Grocer who was a householder and sold 
the best butter. 


1 The Nis of Denmark and Norway is the same imaginary being that is 
called Brownie in Scotland, and Kobold in Germany. He is represented 
as a dwarf, dressed in gray, with a pointed red cap. , 

2 A skilling is a small Danish coin, in value a little less than a cent. 


ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 43 


So when night was come, the shop shut up, and all, except 
the Student, were gone to bed, the Nis stole away Madam’s 
tongue — she did not want it while she slept. And now what- 
ever object he put it upon not only received forthwith the 
faculty of speech, but was able to express its thoughts and 
feelings to the full as well as Madam herself. Fortunately the 
tongue could be in only one place at a time, otherwise there 
would have been a rare tumult and chattering in the shop, 
all speaking at once. 

And the Nis put the tongue on the tub wherein all the old 
newspapers lay. “Is it really true,” he asked, “that you do 
not know what poetry is?” 

“ Don't I know!.” replied the Tub ; “it is something that is 
put into the newspapers to fill them up. I should think I 
have more of it in me than the Student has, though I am only 
a Tub at the Grocer’s!” 

And the Nis put the tongue on the coffee-mill, — O, how 
bravely it worked then !— and he put it on the money-box 
and on sundry other articles ; and he asked them all the same 
question, and all gave much the same answer; all were of 
the same opinion, and the opinion of the multitude must be 
respected. , 

“ Now for the Student!” and the Nis glided very softly up ~ 
the back-stairs leading to the Student’s attic. There was light 
within, and the Nis peeped through the key-hole to see what 
the Student was about. He was reading in his new-found 
treasure, the torn old book. But O how glorious! A bright 
sunbeam, as it were, shot out from the book, expanding itself 
into a mighty, broad-stemmed tree, which raised itself on high 
and spread its branches over the student. Every leaf on the 
tree was fresh and green, every flower was like a graceful, 
girlish head,— the faces of some lit up with eyes dark, thrilling, 
and passionate, and others animated by serene blue orbs, gen- 
tle as an angel’s. And every fruit was like a glittering star, 
and such delicious melody was wafted around ! 

No, such glory and beauty as this never could the little Nis 
have imagined. And, mounted on tiptoe, he stood peeping 
and peeping, till at last the bright light within died away, till 
the Student blew out his lamp and weut to bed. Nor even 


44 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


then could little Nis tear himself away, for soft, sweet music 
still floated around, lulling the Student to rest. . 

“This is beyond compare !” exclaimed the little Nis ; “ this 
could I never have anticipated! I believe I will stay with the 
Student henceforth.” But he paused, and reflected, and rea- 
soned coolly with himself, and then he sighed, “The Student 
has no groats to give me.” So down he went ; yes, back he 
went to the Grocer’s ; and it was well that he did, for the Tub 
had, meantime, nearly worn out Madam’s tongue, by giving 
out through one ring all that was rumbling within it, and was 
just on the point of turning in order to give out the same 
through the other ring when the Nis came and took the 
tongue back to Madam. But from that time forward, the 
whole shop, from the cash box down to the pinewood fagots, 
formed their opinion from that of the Tub; and they all had 
such confidence in it, and treated it with so much respect, that 
when the Grocer read aloud in the evening art and the stage 
criticism from the “Times,” they all thought it was the Tub’s 
doings. 

But the little Nis was no longer content to stay quietly in 
the shop, listening to all the wit and wisdom to be gathered 
there ; no, as soon as ever the lamp gleamed from the attic- 
chamber he was gone ; that slight thread of lamp-light issuing 
from under the Student’s door acted upon him as it were a 
strong anchor-rope drawing him upward; he must away to 
peep through the key-hole. And then he felt a tumult of 
pleasure within him, a feeling such as we all have known while 
gazing on the glorious sea when the Angel of the Storm is 
passing over it; and then he would burst out weeping, he 
knew not why, but they were happy, blessed tears. O, de- 
lightful beyond conception would it have been to sit with the 
Student under the tree! but that would be too much happi- 
ness ; content was he and right glad of the key-hole. And 
there he would stand for hours in the draughty passage, with 
the bleak autumn-wind blowing down from the trap-door in 
the roof full upon him ; but the enthusiastic little spirit never 
heeded the cold, nor, indeed, felt it at all until the light in the 
attic had been extinguished, and the sweet music had died 
away in the mournful night-wind. Ugh! then he did shake 


IHEAINIS (AT THE GROCER’S. 45 


and shiver, and crept back into his comfortable warm corner. 
And when Christmas Eve came, and the great lump of butter 
in his groats — ah! then he felt that the Grocer was his master, 
after all! 

But one midnight the Nis was awaked by a terrible rat-tat 
upon the window-shutters; a crowd of people outside were 
shouting with all their might and main ; the watchman was 
sounding his alarum ; the whole street was lit up with a blaze 
of flame. Fire! where was it? at the Grocer’s, or next door? 
The tumult was beyond description. Madam, in her bewilder- 
ment, took her gold ear-rings off her ears and put them in her 
pocket, by way of saving something; the Grocer was in a 
state of excitement about his bonds, the maid wild for her silk 
mantilla. Every one would fain rescue whatsoever he deemed 
most precious ; so would the little Nis. In two bounds he 
was up-stairs, in the attic. ‘The Student was standing at the 
open window, calmly admiring the fire, which was in the 
neighbor’s house, not theirs; the marvelous book lay on the 
table, the little Nis seized it, put it into his red cap, and held 
it aloft with both hands: the most precious thing the house 
possessed was saved! Away he darted with it, sprang upon 
the roof, and in a second was seated on the chimney-pot, the 
glorious raging flames like a halo around him, both hands 
grasping firmly the little red cap wherein lay his treasure. 
And now he knew where his heart was, felt that the Student 
was really his master; but when the fire was extinguished, 
and he recovered his senses, — what then? “TI will divide my 
_ allegiance between them,” quoth he ; “I cannot quite give up 
the Grocer, because of my bowl of groats.” 

Now this was really quite human. The rest of us stick to 
the Grocer — for groats. 


fen 


\. 
y 


ae ty 
Dy a 


THE FIR-TREE. 


UT in the woods stood a nice little Fir-tree. The place 

he had was a very good one ; the sun shone on him ; 

as to fresh air, there was enough of that, and round him grew 
many large-sized comrades, pines as well as firs. But the 
little Fir wanted so very much to be a grown-up tree. | 

He did not think of the warm sun and of the fresh air; he 
did not care for the little cottage-children that ran about and 
prattled when they were in the woods looking for wild straw- 
berries. The children often came with a whole pitcher full of 
berries, or a long row of them threaded ona straw, and sat 
down near the young Tree and said, “O, how pretty he is! 
what a nice little fir!” But this was what the Tree could not 
bear to hear. 

At the end of a year he had shot up a good deal, and after 
another year he was another long bit taller ; for with fir-trees 
one can always tell by the shoots how many years old they. 
are. ; 
“OQ, were I but such a high tree as the others are,” sighed 
he. “Then I should be able to spread out my branches, and 
with the tops to look into the wide world! Then would the 
birds build nests among my branches ; and when there was a 
breeze, I could bend with as much stateliness as the others !” 


\ 


DHE LIRH-1T REL. vy | 


‘ Néither the sunbeams, nor the birds, nor the red clouds 
which morning and evening sailed above him, gave the little 
Tree any pleasure. 

In winter, when the snow lay glittering on the ground, a 
hare would often come leaping along, and jump right over the 
little Tree. O, that made him so angry! But two winters 
were past, and in the third the Tree was so large that the hare. 
was obliged to go round it. “To grow and grow, to get older 
and be tall,” thought the Tree, — “that, after all, is the most 
delightful thing in the world!” 

In autumn the wood-cutters always came and felled some of 
the largest trees. ‘This happened every year; and the young 
Fir-tree, that had now grown to a very comely size, trembled 
at the sight ; for the magnificent great trees fell to the earth 
with noise and cracking, the branches were lopped off, and the 
trees looked long and bare: they were hardly to be recognized ; 
and then they were laid in carts, and the horses dragged them 
out of the wood. 

_ Where did they go to? What became of them? 

In spring, when the Swallows and the Storks came, the Tree . 
‘asked them, “ Don’t you know where they have been taken? 
‘Have you not met them anywhere ? ” 

The Swallows did not know anything about it ; but the Stork 
Jooked musing, nodded his head, and said, “Yes; I think I 
‘know; I met many ships as I was flying hither from Egypt ; 
onthe ships were magnificent masts, and I venture to assert 
that it was they that smelt so of fir. I may congratulate you, 
for they lifted themselves on high most majestically !” 

“O, were J but: old enough to fly across the sea! But how 
does the sea look in reality ? - What is it like?” 

“That would take a long time to explain,” said the Stork, 
and with these words off he went. 

“ Rejoice in thy growth!” said the Sunbeams, “ rejoice in 
thy vigorous growth, and in the fresh life that moveth within 
thee!” basi, 

And the Wind kissed the Tree, and the Dew wept tears 
over him ; but the Fir understood it not. 

When Christmas came, quite young trees were cut down ; 
trees which often were not even as large or of the same age as 


48 ANDERSEN S WONDER STORIES. 


this Fir-tree, who could never rest, but always wanted to be 
off. These young trees, and they were always the finest look- 
ing, retained their branches ; they were laid on carts, and the 
horses drew them out of the wood. 

“Where are they going to?” asked the Fir. “They are not 
taller than I; there was one indeed that was considerably 
shorter ;— and why do they retain all their branches? Whither 
are they taken?” 

“We know! we know!” chirped the Sparrows. ‘We have 
peeped in at the windows in the town below! We know whither 
they are taken! ‘The greatest splendor and the greatest mag- 
nificence one can imagine await them. We peeped through 
the windows, and saw them planted in the middle of the warm 
room, and ornamented with the most splendid things, — with 
gilded apples, with gingerbread, with toys, and many hundred 
lights !” : 

“And then?” asked the Fir-tree, trembling in every bough. 
‘And then? What happens then ? ” 

“We did not see anything more: it was incomparably beau- 
tiful.” 

“‘T would fain know if I am destined for so glorious a career,” 
cried the Tree, rejoicing. “That is still better than to cross 
the sea! Whata longing do I suffer! Were Christmas but 
come! I am nowtall, and my branches spread like the others 
that were carried off last year! O, were I but already on the 
cart! Were I in the warm room with all the splendor and 
magnificence! Yes; then something better, something still 
grander, will surely follow, or wherefore should they thus orna- 
ment me? Something better, something still grander, must 
follow — but what? O, how I long, how I suffer! Ido not 
know myself what is the matter with me!” 

“ Rejoice in our presence!” said the Air and the Sunlight ; 
“rejoice in thy own fresh youth!” 

But the Tree did not rejoice at all ; he grew and grew, and 
was green both winter and summer. People that saw him said, 
“What a fine tree!” and towards Christmas he was one of the 
first that was cyt down. The axe struck deep into the very 
pith ; the tree fell to the earth with a sigh: he felt a pang — 
it was like a swoon ; he could not think of happiness, for he 


{? 


| 


THE FIR-TREE. | 49 


was sorrowful at being separated from his home, from the place 
where he had sprung up. He well knew that he should never 
see his dear old comrades, the little bushes and flowers around 
him, any more; perhaps not even the birds! .The departure 
was not at all agreeable. 

The Tree only came to himself when he was unloaded in a 
court-yard with the other trees, and heard a man say, “ That 
one is splendid! we don’t want the others.” Then two ser- 
vants came in rich livery and carried the Fir-tree into a large 
and splendid drawing-room. Portraits were hanging on the 
walls, and near the white porcelain stove stood two large 
Chinese vases with lions on the covers. ‘There, too, were large 
easy-chairs, silken sofas, large tables full of picture-books, and 
full of toys worth hundreds and hundreds of crowns —at least 
the children said so. And the Fir-tree was stuck upright in a 
cask that was filled with sand: but no one could see that it 
was a cask, for green cloth was hung all round it, and it stood 
on a large gayly-colored carpet. O, how the tree quivered! 
What was to happen? ‘The servants, as well as the young 
ladies, decorated it. On one branch there hung little nets 
cut out of colored paper, and each net was filled with sugar- 
plums ; and among the other boughs gilded apples and wal- 
nuts were suspended, looking as though they had grown there, 
and little blue and white tapers were placed among the leaves. 
Dolls that looked for all the world like men — the Tree had 
never beheld such before — were seen among the foliage, and 
at the very top a large star of gold tinsel was fixed. It was 
really splendid — beyond description splendid. 

“This evening!” said they all ; “ how it will shine this even- 
ing!” 

“O,” thought the Tree, “if the evening were but come! If 
the tapers were but lighted! And then I wonder what will 
happen! Perhaps the other trees from the forest will come 
to look at me! Perhaps the sparrows will beat against the 
_ window-panes! I wonder if I shall take root here, and winter 
and summer stand covered with ornaments! _ 

He knew very much about the matter! but he was so 
impatient that for sheer longing he got a pain in his back, and 
this with trees is the same thing as a headache with us. 


50 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


The candles were now lighted. What brightness! What 
splendor! ‘The Tree trembled so in every bough that one of 
the tapers set fire to the foliage. It blazed up splendidly. 

“Help! help!” cried the young ladies, and they quickly 
put out the fire. 

Now the Tree did not even dare tremble. What a state he 
was in! He was so uneasy lest he should lose something of 
his splendor, that he was quite bewildered amidst the glare and 
brightness ; when suddenly both folding-doors opened, and a 
troop of children rushed in as if they would upset the Tree 
The older persons followed quietly ; the little ones stood quite 
still. But it was only for a moment ; then they shouted so that 
the whole place reéchoed with their rejoicing; they danced 
round the Tree, and one present after the other was pulled 
off. 

“What. are they about?” thought the Tree. ‘What is to 
happen now!” And the lights burned down to the very 
branches, and as they burned down they were put out one 
after the other, and then the children had permission to plun 
der the Tree. So they fell upon it with such violence that all 
its branches cracked ; if it had not been fixed firmly in the 
cask, it would certainly have tumbled down. 

The children danced about with their beautiful playthings. 
no one looked at the Tree except the old nurse, who peeped 
between the branches ; but it was only to see if there was a 
fig or an apple left that had been forgotten. 

“A story! a story!” cried the children, drawing a little 
fat man towards the Tree. He seated himself under it, and 
said, ‘‘ Now we are in the shade, and the Tree can listen too. 
But I shall tell only one story. Now which will you have ; 
that about Ivedy-Avedy, or about Klumpy-Dumpy who tum- 
bled down-stairs, and yet after all came to the throne and 
married the princess ?” 

“Tvedy-Avedy,” cried some ; ‘‘ Klumpy-Dumpy,”’ cried the 
others. ‘There was such a bawling and screaming !— the Fir- 
tree alone was silent, and he thought to himself, “ Am I not 
to bawl with the rest? —am I to do nothing whatever?” for 
he was one of the company, and had done what he had to do. 

And the man told about Klumpy-Dumpy that tumbled down, 
who notwithstanding came to the throne, and at last married 


THE FIR-TREE. ai 


the princess. And the children clapped their hands, and cried 
out, “O, goon! Do go on!” They wanted to hear about 
Ivedy-Avedy too, but the little man only told them about 
Klumpy-Dumpy. ‘The Fir-tree stood quite still and absorbed 
in thought: the birds in the wood had never related the like 
of this. ‘ Klumpy-Dumpy fell down-stairs, and yet he married 
the princess! Yes, yes! that’s the way of the world!” thought 
the Fir-tree, and believed it all, because the man who told the 
story was so good-looking. “Well, well! who knows, perhaps 
I may fall down-stairs too, and get a princess as wife!” And 
he looked forward with joy to the morrow, when he hoped to 
be decked out again with lights, playthings, fruits, and tinsel. 

“JT won’t tremble to-morrow!” thought the Fir-tree. “I 
will enjoy to the full all my splendor! To-morrow I shall 
hear again the story of Klumpy-Dumpy, and perhaps that of 
Ivedy-Avedy too.” And the whole night the ‘Tree stood still 
and in deep thought. 

In the morning the servant and the housemaid came in. 

“Now then the splendor will begin again,” thought the Fir, 
But they dragged him out of the room, and up the stairs into 
the loft; and here in a dark corner, where no daylight could 
enter, they left him. “ What’s the meaning of this?” thought 
the Tree. ‘What am I todo here? What shall I hear now, 
I wonder?” And he leaned against the wall lost in reverie. 
Time enough had he too for his reflections ; for days and 
nights passed on, and nobody came up; and when at last 
somebody did come, it was only to put some great trunks in a 
corner out of the way. “There stood the Tree quite hidden ; 
it seemed as if he had been entirely forgotten. 

“°Tis now winter out-of-doors!” thought the Tree. “ The 
earth is hard and covered with snow; men cannot plant me 
now, and therefore I have been put up here under shelter till 
the spring-time comes! How thoughtful that is! How kind 
man is, after all! If it only were not so dark here, and so ter- 
ribly lonely! Not even a hare. And out in the woods it was 
so pleasant, when the snow was on the ground, and the hare 
leaped by ; yes — even when he jumped over me ; but I did 
not like it then. It is really terribly lonely here!” 

“Squeak! squeak!” said a little Mouse at the same mo- 
ment, peeping out of his hole. And then another little one. 


52 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


came. They snuffed about the Fir-tree, and rustled amon 
the branches. 7 

“Tt is dreadfully cold,” said the Mouse. “But for that, it 
would be delightful here, old Fir, wouldn’t it ?” 

“T am by no means old,” said the Fir-tree. “There’s many 
a one considerably older than I am.” 

“Where do you come from,” asked the Mice ; “and what 
can you do?” ‘They were so extremely curious. “Tell us 
about the most beautiful spot on the earth. Have you never 
been there? Were you never in the larder, where cheeses lie 
on the shelves, and hams hang from above ; where one dances 
about on tallow candles ; that place where one enters lean, 
and comes out again fat and portly?” . 

“‘T know no such place,” said the Tree. “ But I know the 
wood, where the sun shines, and where the little birds sing.” 
And then he told all about his youth ; and the little Mice had 
never heard the like before ; and they listened and said, — 

“Well, to be sure! How much you have seen! How happy 
you must have been!” 

“JT!” said the Fir-tree, thinking over what he had himself 
related. “ Yes, in reality those were happy times.” And then 
he told about Christmas Eve, when he was decked out with 
cakes and candles. 

“O,” said the little Mice, “how fortunate you have been, 
old Fir-tree ! ” 

“T am by no means old,” said he. “I came from the wood 
this winter ; I am in my prime, and am only rather short for 
my age.” 

“What delightful stories you know!” said the Mice: and 
the next night they came with four other little Mice, who were 
to hear what the Tree recounted ; and the more he related, 
the more plainly he remembered all himself; and it appeared 
as if those times had really been happy times. ‘“ But they 
may still come—they may still come. Humpy-Dumpy fell 
down-stairs, and yet he got a princess ! ” and he thought at the 
moment of a nice little Birch-tree growing out in the woods: 
to the Fir, that would be a real charming princess. 

“Who is Klumpy-Dumpy?” asked the Mice. So then the 
Fir-tree told the whole fairy tale, for he could remember every 
single word of it; and the little Mice jumped for joy up to the 


THE FIR-TREE. 53 


very top of the Tree. Next night two more Mice came, and 
on Sunday two Rats, even ; but they said the stories were not 
interesting, which vexed the little Mice; and they, too, now 
began to think them not so very amusing either. 

“Do you know only one story?” asked the Rats. 

“Only that one,” answered the Tree. “I heard it on my 
happiest evening; but I did not then know how happy I was.” 

“Tt is a very stupid story! Don’t you know one about 
bacon and tallow candles? Can’t you tell any larder-stories?” 

No,” said the Tree. 

“Then good-by,” said the Rats ; and they went home. 

At last the little Mice stayed away also; and the Tree 
sighed: “ After all, it was very pleasant when the sleek little 
Mice sat round me and listened to what I told them. Now 
that too is over. But I will take good care to enjoy myself 
when I am brought out again.” 

But when was that to be? Why, one morning there came a 
quantity of people and set to work in the loft. The trunks 
were moved, the tree was pulled out and thrown —rather hard, 
it is trtue—down on the floor, but a man drew him towards 
the stairs, where the daylight shone. 

“ Now a merry life will begin again,” thought the Tree. He 
felt the fresh air, the first sunbeam, — and now he was out in 
the court-yard. All passed so quickly, there was so much going 
on around him, that the Tree quite forgot to look to himself. 
The court adjoined a garden, and all was in flower ; the roses 
hung so fresh and odorous over the balustrade, the lindens 
were in blossom, the Swallows flew by, and said “ Quirre-vit! 
my husband is come!” but it was not the Fir-tree that they 
meant. 

“Now, then, I shall really enjoy life,” said he, exultingly, 
and spread out his branches ; but, alas! they were all withered 
and yellow. It was in a corner that he lay, among weeds and 
nettles. The golden star of tinsel was still on the top of the 
Tree, and glittered in the sunshine. 

In the court-yard some of the merry children were playing 
who had danced at Christmas round the Fir-tree, and were so 
glad at the sight of him. One of the youngest ran and tore 
off the golden star. 


54 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


“Only look what is still on the ugly old Christmas tree!” 
said he, trampling on the branches, so that they all cracked 
beneath his feet. 

And the Tree beheld all the beauty of the flowers, and the 
freshness in the garden; he beheld himself, and wished he 
had remained in his dark corner in the loft: he thought of his 
first youth in the wood, of the merry Christmas Eve, and of the 
little Mice who had listened with so much pleasure to the 
story of Humpy-Dumpy. 

“Tis over —‘tis past! ”’ said the poor Tree. “ Had I but 
rejoiced when I had reason to do so! But now ’tis past, ’tis 
past!” 

And the gardener’s boy chopped the Tree into small pieces ; 
there was a whole heap lying there. The wood flamed up 
splendidly under the large brewing copper, and it sighed so 
deeply! Each sigh was like a shot. 

The boys played about in the court, and the youngest wore 
the gold star on his breast which the Tree had had on the 
happiest evening of his life. However, that was over now, — 
the Tree gone, the story at an end. All, all was over ; every 
tale must end at last. 


THE MONE Y-PIG. 55 


THE MONEY-PIG. 


if N the nursery a number of toys lay strewn about ; high up, 
on the wardrobe, stood the money-box, made of clay in 
the shape of a little pig ; the pig had by nature a chink in its 
back, and this chink had been so enlarged with a knife that 
whole dollar pieces could slip through ; and, indeed, two such 
had slipped into the box, beside a number of pence. The 
Money-pig was stuffed so full that it could no longer rattle, 
and that is the highest point of perfection a money-pig can at- 
tain. ‘There it stood upon the cupboard, high and lofty, look- 
ing down upon everything else in the room. It knew very 
well that what it had in its stomach would have bought all 
the toys, and that’s what we call having self-respect. 

The others thought of that too, even if they did not say it, 
for there were many other things to speak of. One of the 
drawers was half pulled out, and there lay a great handsome 
Doll, though she was somewhat old, and her neck had been 
mended. She looked out and said, — 

“ Now we'll play at men and women, for that is always 
something !” 

And now there was a general uproar, and even the framed 
prints on the walls turned round and showed that there was a 
wrong side to them; but that was not because they ob- 
jected. 3 

It was late at night ; the moon shone through the window- 
frames and afforded the cheapest light. The game was now 
to begin, and all, even the children’s Go-cart, which certainly 
belonged to the coarser playthings, were invited to take part 
in the sport. 

“ Bach one has his own peculiar value,” said the Go-cart ; 
“we cannot all be noblemen. There must be some who do 
the work, as the saying is.” 

The Money-pig was the only one who received a written in- 
vitation, for he was of high standing, and they were afraid he 
would not accept a verbal message. Indeed, he did not 
answer to say whether he would come, nor did he come: if 
he was to take a part, he must enjoy the sport from his own 
home ; they were to arrange accordingly, and so they did. 


56 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


The little toy theatre was now put up in such a way that 
the Money-pig could look directly in. They wanted to begin 
with a comedy, and afterwards there was to be a tea-party and 
a discussion for mental improvement, and with this latter part 
they began immediately. ‘The Rocking-horse spoke of train- 
ing and race, the Go-cart of railways and steam power, for 
all this belonged to their profession, and it was quite right 
they should talk of it. The Clock talked politics — tick—tick 
—and knew what was the time of day, though it was whis- 
pered he did not go correctly ; the Bamboo Cane stood there, 
stiff and proud, for he was conceited about his brass ferule and 
his silver top, for being thus bound above and below ; and on 
the sofa lay two worked cushions, pretty and stupid. And now 
the play began. 

All sat and looked on, and it was requested that the 
audience should applaud and crack and stamp according as 
they were gratified. But the Riding-whip said he never 
cracked for old people, only for young ones who were not yet 
married. 

“T crack for everything,” said the Cracker. 

“There will be one good place at any rate,” thought the 
Sawdust Box, and that was what each one in the comedy was 
thinking. 

The piece was worthless, but it was well played ; all the 
characters turned their painted side to the audience, for they 
were so made that they should only be looked at from that 
side, and not from the other ; and all played wonderfully well, 
coming out quite beyond the lamps, because the wires were a 
little too long, but that only made them come out the more. 
The darned Doll was quite exhausted with excitement — so 
thoroughly exhausted that she burst at the darned place in her 
neck ; and the Money-pig was so enchanted in his way that he 
formed the resolution to do something for one of the players, 
and to remember him in his will as the one who should be 
buried with him in the family vault, when matters were so far 
advanced. | 

It was true enjoyment, such true enjoyment that they quite 
gave up the thoughts of tea, and only carried out the idea of 
an exercise of wits. That’s what they called playing at men 


THE MONE Y-PIG. 57 


and women ; and there was nothing wrong in it, for they were 
only playing ; and each one thought of himself and of what 
the Money-pig might think ; and the Money-pig thought far- 
thest of all, for he thought of making his will and of his burial. 
And when might this come to pass? Certainly far sooner 
than was expected. Crack! it fell down from the cupboard 
— fell on the ground, and was broken to pieces ; and the pen- 
nies hopped and danced in comical style: the little ones 
turned round like tops, and the bigger ones rolled away, par- 
ticularly the one great silver dollar who wanted to go out into 
the world. And he came out into the world, and so did they 
all. And the pieces of the Money-pig were put into the dust- 
bin ; but the next day a new money-pig was standing on the 
cupboard : it had not yet a farthing in its stomach, and there- 
fore it could not rattle, and in this it was like the other. And 
that was a beginning — and with that we will make an end. 


5 il . 


SIN 


> 
a — 


THE SWINEHERD. 


HERE was once a poor Prince ; he had a kingdom that 
was very small; still it was quite large enough to 
marry upon; and he wished to marry. 

It was certainly rather cool of him to say to the Emperor’s 
daughter, “ Will you have me?” Butso he did; for his name 
was renowned far and wide ; and there were a hundred Prin- 
cesses who would have answered, “Thank you.” But see 
what she said. Now we will hear. 

By the grave of the Prince’s father there grew a rose-tree, 
—a most beautiful rose-tree ; it blossomed only once in every 
five years, and even then bore only one flower, but that was a 
rose that smelt so sweet as to make one forget all cares and 
SOITOWS. 

And furthermore, the Prince had a nightingale, who could 
sing in such a manner that it seemed as though all sweet melo- 
dies dwelt in her little throat. So the Princess was to have 
the rose and the nightingale ; and they were accordingly put 
into large silver caskets, and sent to her. 

The Emperor had them brought into a large hall, where the 


THE SWINEHERD. 59 


Princess was playing at “ making calls,” with the ladies of the 
court; they never did anything else, and when she saw the 
caskets with the presents, she clapped her hands for joy. 

“Ah, if it were but a little pussy-cat!” exclaimed she ; 
then out came the beautiful rose. 

“QO, how prettily it is made!” said all the court-ladies. 

_ “Jt is more than pretty,” said the Emperor ; “it is charm- 
ing?’ 
But the Princess touched it, and was almost ready to cry. 

Plies papa!” said she,: “it is not: made at all; it is 
natural ! ” 

“ Fie!” cried all the court ladies ; “it is natural!” 

“ Let us see what is in the other casket, before we get into 
a bad humor,” proposed the Emperor. So the Nightingale 
came forth, and sang so delightfully that at first no one could 
say anything ill-humored of it. 

“ Superbe ! charmant /” exclaimed the ladies ; for they all 
used to chatter French, each one worse than her neigh- 
bor. 

“ How much the bird reminds me of the musical box that 
belonged to our blessed Empress !” remarked an old Knight. 
“ Ah yes! it is the very same tone, the same execution.” 

“Yes! yes!” said the Emperor, and he wept like a little 
child. 

“T will still hope that it is not a real bird,” said the Prin- 
cess. “ 

“Vet it is a real bird,’ said those who had brought it. 

“Well, then let the bird fly,” returned the Princess ; and 
she positively refused to see the Prince. 

However, he was not to be discouraged ; he daubed his 
face over brown and black ; pulled his cap over his ears, and 
knocked at the door. 

“Good day, Emperor!” said he. “Can I have employ- 
ment at the palace?” 

“O there are so many that want a place!” said the Em- 
peror ; “ well, let me see, I want some one to take care of the 
~ pigs, for we have a great many of them.” 

So the Prince was appointed “Imperial Swineherd.” He 
had a dirty little room close by the pig-sty ; and there he sat 


60 ANDERSEN'S WONDER STORIES. 


the whole day, and worked. By the evening, he had made a 
pretty little saucepan. Little bells were hung all around it ; 
and when the pot was boiling, these bells tinkled in the most 
charming manner, and played the old melody : — 


“Ah! thou dearest Augustine! 
All is gone, gone, gone!” 


But what was still more curious, whoever held his finger in 
the smoke of this saucepan, immediately smelt all the dishes 
that were cooking on every hearth in the city: this, you see, 
was something quite different from the rose. 

Now the Princess happened to walk that way ; and when 
she heard the tune, she stood quite still, and seemed pleased ; 
for she could play ‘“ Dearest Augustine ;” it was the only piece 
she knew, and she played it with one finger. 

“‘ Why, there is my piece !” said the Princess ; “ that Swine- 
herd must certainly have been well educated! Here! Go in 
and ask him the price of the instrument.” 

And so one of the court-ladies must run in ; however, she 
drew on wooden slippers first. 

“What will you take for the saucepan?” inquired the 
lady. 

“ T will have ten kisses from the Princess,” said the swine- 
herd. . 

“Mercy on us!” said the lady. 

“Ves, I cannot sell it for less,” said the swineherd. 

“ Well, what does he say?” asked the Princess. 

“TI cannot tell you, really,” replied the lady; “it is too 
bad!” 

“Then you can whisper it!” So the lady whispered it. 

“He is an impudent fellow!” said the Princess, and she 
walked on; but when she had gone a little way, the bells 
tinkled so prettily, — 


“Ah! thou dearest Augustine ! 
All is gone, gone, gone !” 


“Stay,” said the Princess. ‘Ask him if he will have ten 
kisses from the ladies of my court.” 

“No, thank you!” answered the swineherd: “ten kisses 
from the Princess, or I keep the saucepan myself.” 


om 


THE SWINEHERD. 61 


“That must not be, either!” said the Princess ; “but do 
you all stand before me, that no one may see us.” 

And the court-ladies placed themselves in front of her, and 
spread out their dresses ; and so the Swineherd got ten 
kisses, and she got the saucepan. 

It was delightful! the saucepan was kept boiling all the 
evening, and the whole of the following day. They knew per- 
fectly well what was cooking at every fire throughout the city, 
from the chamberlain’s to the cobbler’s; the court-ladies 
danced, and clapped their hands. 

“We know who has soup and who has pancakes for dinner 
to-day, who has cutlets, and who has eggs. How interesting ! ” 

And “ How interesting!” said the Lord Steward’s wife. 

“Yes, but keep my secret, for | am an Emperor’s daugh- 
ter” 

“Mercy on us,” said they all. 

The Swineherd — that is to say the Prince, forno one knew 
that he was other than an ill-favored swineherd — let not a 
day pass without working at something; he at last con- 
structed a rattle, which, when it was swung round, played all 
the waltzes and jig-tunes which have ever been heard since 
the creation of the world. 

“ Ah, that is superbe /” said the Princess when she passed 
by ; “I have never heard prettier compositions ! Go in and 
ask him the price of the instrument ; but I won’t kiss him !” 

“ He will have a hundred kisses from the Princess!” said 
the court-lady who had been in to ask. 

“ J think he is crazy!” said the Princess, and walked on ; 
but when she had gone a little way, she stopped again. “One 
must encourage art,” said she ; “I am the Emperor’s daughter. 
Tell him, he shall, as on yesterday, have ten kisses from me, 
and may take the rest from the ladies of the court.” 

“OQ! but we should not like that at all!” said the court- 
ladies. 

“What are you muttering?” asked the Princess ; “if I can 
kiss him, surely you can! Remember, I give you your food 
and wages.” So the court-ladies were obliged to go to him 
again. 

“ A hundred kisses from the Princess!” said he, “or else 
let every one keep his own.” 


62 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


“ Stand round !” said she ; and all the ladies stood round her 
whilst the kissing was going on. 

“What can be the reason for such a crowd close by the 
pig-sty?” said the Emperor, who happened just then to step 
out on the balcony. He rubbed his eyes and put on his spec- 
tacles. ‘They are the ladies of “the court; there is “some 
play going on. I must go down and see what they are 
about!” So he pulled up his slippers at the heel, for he had 
trodden them down. 

Heh there! what a hurry he is in. 

As soon as he had got into the court-yard, he moved very 
softly, and the ladies were so much engrossed with counting 
the kisses, that all might go on fairly, that they did not per- 
ceive the Emperor. He rose on his tiptoes. 

“What is all this?” said he, when he saw what was going 
on, and he boxed the Princess’s ears with his slipper, just as 
the Swineherd was taking the eighty-sixth kiss. 

“ Off with you!” cried the Emperor, for he was very angry ; 
and both Princess and Swineherd were thrust out of the city. 

The Princess now stood and wept, the Swineherd scolded, 
and the rain poured down. 

“O how miserable Iam!” said the Princess. “If I had 
but married the handsome young Prince! Ah! how unfortu- 
nate I am!” 

And the Swineherd went behind a tree, washed the black- 
and-brown color from his face, threw off his dirty clothes, and 
stepped forth in his princely robes ; he looked so noble that 
the Princess could not help bowing before him. 

‘“‘T am come to despise thee,” said he. ‘“ Thou wouldst not 
have an honorable prince! thou couldst not prize the rose 
and the nightingale, but thou wast ready to kiss the Swineherd 
for the sake of a trumpery plaything. Now thou hast thy 
deserts!” 

He then went back to his own little kingdom, and shut 
the door of his palace in her face. Now she might well sing, 


“* Ah! thou dearest Augustine! 
All is gone, gone, gone!” 


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_YACK THE DULLARD. 65 


SACK THE DULLARD. 
AN OLD STORY TOLD ANEW. 


AR in the interior of the country lay an old baronial 
hall, and in it lived an old proprietor, who had two 
sons, which two young men thought themselves too clever by 
half. They wanted to go out and woo the King’s daughter ; 
for she had publicly announced that she would choose for 
her husband that youth who could arrange his words best. 
The two geniuses prepared themselves eight days before- 
hand — this was the longest time that could be granted them ; 
but it was enough, for they had had much preparatory infor- 
mation, and everybody knows how useful that is. One of them 
knew the whole Latin dictionary by heart, and the City Ad- 
vertiser three years ; and so well, that he could say it all 
either backwards or forwards. ‘The other was deeply read 
in the corporation laws, and knew by heart what every cor- 
poration ought to know; and, accordingly, he thought he 
could talk of affairs of state, and put his spoke in the wheel 
in the council. And he knew one thing more; he could 
embroider braces with roses and other flowers, and with 
arabesques, for he was a tasty, light-fingered fellow. 

“T shall win the Princess!” So cried both of them. Their 
old papa gave to each a handsome horse. The youth who 
knew the dictionary and newspaper by heart had a black 
horse, and he who knew all about the corporation laws 
received a milk-white steed. Then they rubbed the corners 
of their mouths with fish-oil, so that they might become very 
smooth and glib. All the servants stood below in the court- 
yard, and looked on while they mounted their horses ; and 
just by chance the third son came up ; for there were three 
sons, but nobody counted the third with his brothers, because 
he was not so learned as they, and indeed he was generally 
known as “ Jack the Dullard.” 

“Hallo!” said Jack the Dullard, “where are you going 
there in your Sunday clothes ?” 

“We're going to the King’s court, as suitors to the King’s 

5 


: 


66 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


daughter. Don’t you know the announcement that has been 
made all through the country?” And they told him all 
about it. 

“My word! I’ll be in it too!” said Jack the Dullard; 
and his two brothers, burst out laughing at him, and rode 
away. st 

“Father,” said Jack, “I must have a horse too. I do feel 
so desperately inclined to marry! If she accepts me, she 
accepts me; and if she won’t have me, Ill have her; but 
she shail be mine !” 

“Don’t talk nonsense,” replied the father. ‘You shall 
have no horse from me. You don’t know how to speak — 
you can’t arrange your words. Your brothers, now, they are 
statesmen.” 

“Well,” quoth Jack the Dullard, “if I can’t have a horse, 
Pll take the billy-goat, who belongs to me, and he can carry 
me very well!” 

And so said, so done. He mounted the billy-goat, pressed 
his heels into its sides, and galloped down the high street 
like a hurricane. 

“Hei, houp! that was a ride! Here I come!” shouted 
Jack the Dullard, and he sang till his voice echoed far and 
wide. : 

But his brothers rode slowly on in advance of him. They 
spoke not a word, for they were thinking about the fine 
extempore speeches they would have to bring out, and these 
had to be cleverly prepared and learned beforehand. 

“ Hallo!” shouted Jack the Dullard. “Heream I! Look 
what I have found on the high road.” 

And he showed them what it was, and it was a dead crow. 

“Dullard!” exclaimed the brothers, “what are you going 
to do with that?” 

“With the crow? why, I am going to give it to the Prin- 
cess.” 

“Yes, do so,” said they ; and they laughed, and rode on. 

“Hallo, here I am again! Just see what I have found 
now ; you don’t find that on the high road every day!” 

And the brothers turned round to see what he could have 
found now. . 


‘ 


SACK THE DULLARD. 67 


“ Dullard!” they cried, “that is only an old wooden shoe, 
and the upper part is missing into the bargain ; are you going 
to give that also to the Princess ?” 

“Most certainly I shall,” replied Jack the Dullard ; and 
again the brothers laughed and rode on, and thus they got 
far in advance of him ; but, — 

“ Hallo — hop raat? and there was Jack the Dullard 
again. aaltds petting better and better,” he cried. “ Hurrah! 
it is quite famous.” 

“Why, what have you found this time?” inquired the 
brothers. 

“O,” said Jack the Dullard, “I can hardly tell you. How 
glad the Princess will be!” | 

“Bah!” said the brothers ; “that is nothing but clay out 
of the ditch.” 

“Yes, certainly it is,” said Jack the Dullard ; “and clay 
of the finest sort. See, it is so wet, it runs through one’s 
fingers.” And he filled his pocket with the clay. 

But his brothers galloped on till the sparks flew, and 
consequently they arrived a full hour earlier at the town gate 
than could Jack. Now at the gate each suitor was provided 
with a number, and all were placed in rows immediately on 
their arrival, six in each row, and so closely packed together 
that they could not move their arms ; and that was a prudent 
arrangement, for they would certainly have come to blows,’ 
had they been able, merely because one of them stood before 
the other. 

All the inhabitants of the country round about stood in 
great crowds around the castle, almost under the very win- 
dows, to see the Princess receive the suitors; and as each 
stepped into the hall, his power of speech went right out. 

“Good for nothing!” said the King’s daughter ; “out with 
him!” 

Now they came for that brother who knew the dictionary 
by heart ; but he did not know it now; he had absolutely 
forgotten it altogether ; and the boards seemed to reécho 
with his footsteps, and the ceiling of the hall was made of 
fooking-glass, so that he saw himself standing on his head ; 
and at the window stood three clerks and a head clerk, and 


a. 
a 
a 


68 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


every one of them was writing down every single word that 
was uttered, so that it might be printed in the newspapers, 
and sold for a penny at the street corners. It was a terrible 
ordeal, and they had, moreover, made such a fire in the stove, 
that the room seemed quite red-hot. 

“Tt is dreadfully hot here!” observed the first Brother. 

“Yes,” replied the Princess, “my father is going to roast 
young pullets to-day.” 

“ Baa!” there he stood like a baa-lamb. He had not been 
prepared for a speech of this kind, and. had: not a word to say, 
though he intended to say something witty. “ Baa!” 

“Good for nothing!” said the Princess. “ Off with hinr!” 
-And he was obliged to go accordingly. 

And now the second Brother came in. 

“ Tt is terribly warm here!” he observed. 

“Yes, we’re roasting pullets. to-day,” replied the Princess. 

“‘What — what were you— were you pleased to ob — ob” 
— stammered he — and all the elerks wrote down, “ pleased 
to ob” —. : 

“Good: for nothing!” said the Princess. “Away with 
him!” 

Now came the turn of Jack the Dullard. He rode into the 
hall on his goat. 

“ Well, it’s most abominably hot here.” 

“Yes, because I’m roasting young pullets,” replied the 
Princess. 

“ Ah, that’s lucky!” exclaimed Jack the Dullard, “for I 
suppose you'll let me roast my crow at the same time?” 

“With the greatest pleasure,” said the Princess. “ But 
have you anything you can roast it in? for I have neither pot 
nor pan.” 

“ Certainly I have!” said Jack. “ Here’s a cooking utensil 
with a tin handle.” 

And he brought out the old wooden shoe, and put the crow 
into it. 

“Well, that zs a famous dish!” said the Princess. “ But 
what shall we do for sauce ?”’ | 

‘“‘O, I have that in my pocket,” said Jack: “I have so 
much of it that I can afford to throw some away ;” and he 
poured some of the clay out of his pocket. 


iy 


YACK THE DULLARD. 69 


“J like that!” said the Princess. “You can give an 
answer, and you have something to say for yourself, and so 
you shall be my husband. But are you aware that every word 
we speak is being taken down, and will be published in the 
paper to-morrow? Look yonder, and you will see in every 
window three clerks and a head clerk ; and the old head clerk 
is the worst of all, for he can’t understand anything.” 

But she only said this to frighten Jack the Dullard: and the 
clerks gave a great crow. of delight, and each one spurted a 
blot out of his pen on to the floor. 

“OQ, those are the gentlemen, are they?”’ said Jack ; “ then 
I will give the best I have to the head clerk.” And he turned 
out his pockets, and flung the wet clay full in the head clerk’s 
face. 

“That was. very cleverly “done,” cried the Princess. “ I 
couldn’t have done that; but I shall learn in time.” 

And so Jack the Dullard was made a king, and received a 
crown and a wife, and satupon a throne. And we read this 
in the official report of the head clerk, but that is not altogether 
to be trusted. 


if WZ 
oI) pp Z 
Tey Wy, 

NV 
Ne 


THE LOVERS. 


TOP and a little Ball were together in a drawer among 
some other toys ; and the Top said to the Ball, — 

‘Shall we not be lovers, as we live together in the same 
box?” 

But the Ball, which had acoat of morocco leather, and was 
just as conceited as any fine lady, would make no answer to 
such a proposal. The next day came the little boy to whom 
the toys belonged: he painted the Top red and yellow, and 
hammered a brass nail into it; and it looked splendid when 
the Top turned round. 

“Look at me!” he cried to the little Ball. ‘“ What do you 
say now? Shall we not be engaged to each other? We suit 
one another so well! You jump and I dance! No one could 
be happier than we two should be.” 

“Indeed! Do you think so?” replied the little Ball. “ Per- 
haps you do not know that my papa and my mamma were 
morocco slippers, and that I have a Spanish cork inside 
mery 

“Yes, but I am made of mahogany,” said the Top ; “and 
the mayor himself turned me. He has a turning lathe of his 
own, and it amuses him greatly.” | 


LHL; LOVERS. vie 


“Can I depend on that?” asked the little Ball. 
“¢ May I never be whipped again if it is not true!” replied 
_ the Top. 

“You can speak well for yourself,” observed the Ball, “but 
I cannot grant your request. I am as good as engaged to a 
swallow: every time I leap up into the air he puts her head 
out of the nest and says, ‘Will you?’ And now I have 
silently said ‘ Yes,’ and that is as good as half engaged ; but 
I promise I will never forget you.” 

“Yes, that will be much good!” said the Top. 

And they spoke no more to each other. 

Next day the Ball was taken out by the boy. The Top 
saw how she flew high into the air, like a bird; at last one 
could no longer see her. Each time she came back again, but 
gave a high leap when she touched the earth, and that was done 
either from her longing to mount up again, or because she hada 
Spanish cork in her body. But the ninth time the little Ball 
remained absent, and did not come back again ; and the boy 
sought and sought, but she was gone. 

““T know very well where she is!” sighed the Top. “ She is in 
the Swallow’s nest, and has married the Swallow!” 

The more the Top thought of this, the more it longed for 
the Ball. Just because it could not get the Ball, its love in- 
creased; and the fact that the Ball had chosen another 
formed a peculiar feature in the case. So the Top danced 
round and hummed, but always thought of the little Ball, 
_ which became more and more beautiful in his fancy. Thus 
several years went by, and now it was an old love. 

And the Top was no longer young! But one day he was 
gilt all over ; never had he looked so handsome ; he was now 
a golden Top, and sprang till he hummed again. Yes, that 
was something worth seeing! But all at once he sprang too 
high, and — he was gone ! 

They looked and looked, even in the cellar, but he was not 
to be found. Where could he be? 

He had jumped into the dust-box, where all kinds of things 
were lying: cabbage stalks, sweepings, and dust that had 
fallen down from the roof. 

“‘ Here’s a nice place to lie in! The gilding will soon leave 
me here. Among what a rabble have I alighted!” 


We: ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


And then he looked sideways at a long leafless cabbage 
stump, and at a curious round thing like an old apple; but it 
was not an apple — it was an old Ball, which had lain for 
years in the roofgutter and was quite saturated with water. 

“Thank goodness, here_comes one of us, with whom one 
can talk!” said the little Ball, and looked at the gilt Top. 
“‘T am really morocco, worked by maidens’ hands, and have a 
Spanish cork within me ; but no one would think it, to look at 
me. I was very near marrying a swallow, but I fell into the 
gutter on the roof, and have lain there full five years, and 
become quite wet through. You may believe me, that’s a long 
time for a young girl.” 

But the Top said nothing. He thought of his old love ; 
and the more he heard, the clearer it became to him that this 
was she. Then came the servant-girl, and wanted to turn out 
the dust-box. “ Aha! there’s a gilt top!” she cried. And so 
the Top was brought again to notice and honor, but nothing 
was heard of the little Ball. And the Top spoke no more of 
his old love ; for that dies away when the beloved object has 
lain for five years in a roof-gutter and got wet through ; yes, 
one does not know her again when one meets her in the 
dust-box. 


LG 


LHE SWIFTEST RUNNERS. 73 


THE SWIFTEST RUNNERS. 


HERE was a prize offered —or rather two prizes, a 
large and a small one — for the greatest speed, not in 
a single race, but to such as had raced the whole year. 

“T took the first prize,” said the Hare. “One had a right 
to expect justice when one’s own family and best friends were 
in the council ; but that the Snail should have got the second 
prize I consider as almost an insult to me.” 

“No,” observed the Fence-rail, who had been a witness to 
the distribution of the prizes ; “ you must take diligence and 
good-will into consideration. That remark was made by 
several very estimable persons, and that was also my opinion. 
The Snail, to be sure, took half a year to cross the threshold ; 
but he broke his thigh-bone in the haste he made. He 
devoted himself entirely to this race ; and, moreover, he ran 
with his house on his back. All these weighed in his favor, 
and so he took the second prize.” 

“J think my claims might also have been taken into con- 
sideration,” said the Swallow. “ More speedy than JI, in flight 
and motion, I believe no one has shown himself: And where 
have I not been? Far, far away!” 

“And that is just your misfortune,” said the Fence-rail. 
“You gad about too much. You are always on the wing, 
ready to start out of the country when it begins to freeze. 
You have no love for your father-land. You cannot claim 
any consideration in it.” 

“But if I were to sleep all the winter through on the 
moor,” inquired the Swallow — “sleep my whole time away 
— should I be thus entitled to be taken into consideration ?” 

“ Obtain an affidavit from the old woman of the moor that 
you did sleep half a year in your father-land, then your claims 
will be taken into consideration.” 

“TI deserved the first prize instead of the second,” said the 
‘Snail. “I know very well that the Hare only ran from 
cowardice, whenever he thought there was danger near. I, 
on the contrary, made the trial the business of my life, and 
I have become a cripple in consequence of my exertions. If 


74 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


any one had a right to the first prize it was I; but I make 
no fuss ; I scorn to do so.” And then he spat. 

‘‘T can declare upon my honor that each prize, at least as 
far as my voice in the matter went, was accorded with strict 
justice,” said the old Sign-post in the wood, who had been 
one of the arbitrators. ‘I always act from order, reflection, 
and calculation. Seven times before have I had the honor 
to be engaged in the distribution of the prizes, but never 
until to-day have I had my own way carried out. My plan 
has always hitherto been thwarted — that was, to give the 
first prize to one of the first letters in the alphabet, and the 
second prize to one of the last letters. If you will be so 
good as to grant me your attention, I will explain it to you. 
The eighth letter in the alphabet from 4 is /7—that stands 
for Hare, and therefore I awarded the greatest prize to the 
Hare ; and the eighth letter from the end is .S, therefore the 
Snail obtained the second prize. Next time the / will carry 
off the first prize, and £& the second. A due attention to 
order and rotation should prevail in all rewards and appoint- 


ments. Everything should go according to rule. Aude must 


precede merit.” 

“T should certainly have voted for myself, had I not been 
among the judges,” said the Mule. “ People must take into 
account not only how quickly one goes, but what other cir- 
cumstances are in question ; as, for instance, how much one 
carries. But I would not this time have thought about that, 
neither about the Hare’s wisdom in his flight — his tact in 
springing suddenly to one side, to put his pursuers on the 
wrong scent, away from his place of concealment. No; there 
is one thing many people think much of, and which ought 
_ never to be disregarded. It is called THE BEAUTIFUL. I saw 
that in the Hare’s charming, well-grown ears; it is quite a 
pleasure to see how long they are. I fancied that I beheld 
myself when I was little, and so I voted for him.” 

“ Hush!” said the Fly. “ As for me I will not speak ; I 
will only say one word. I know right well that I have outrun 
more than one hare. The other day I broke the hind legs of 
one of the young ones. I was sitting on the locomotive 
before the train: I often do that. One sees so well there 


a e 


THE SWIFTEST RUNNERS. 75 


one’s own speed. A young hare ran for a long time in front 
of the engine ; he had no idea that I was there. At length 
he was just going to turn off the line, when the locomotive 
went over his hind legs and broke them, for I was sitting on 
it. The hare remained lying there, but I drove on. This 
was surely getting before him; but I do not care for the 
prize.” 

“It appears to me,” thought the Wild Rose, but she did 
not say it —it is not her nature to express her ideas openly, 
though it might have been well had she done so— “it appears 
to me that the Sunbeam should have had the first prize of 
honor, and the second also. It passes in a moment the 
immeasurabie space from the sun down to us, and comes 
with such power that all nature is awakened by it. It has 
such beauty, that all we roses redden and become fragrant 
under it. The high presiding authorities do not seem to have 
noticed z¢ at all. Were I the Sunbeam, I would give each of 
them a sun-stroke—that I would; but it would only make 
them crazy, and they will very likely be that without it. I 
shall say nothing,” thought the Wild Rose. ‘There is peace 
in the wood ; it is delightful to blossom, to shed refreshing 
perfume around, to live amidst the songs of birds and the 
rustling of trees ; but the sun’s rays will outlive us all.” 

“What is the first prize?” asked the Earth-worm, who had 
overslept himself, and only now joined them. 

“Tt is free entrance to the kitchen garden,” said the Mule. 
“JT proposed the prize. The Hare ought to have it ; and so 
I thought, as a clear-sighted and judicious member of the 
meeting, that this was a sensible view of the matter. I was 
resolved he should have it, and he is now provided for. The 
Snail has permission to sit on the stone fence, and to enjoy 
the moss and the sunshine ; and, moreover, he is appointed 
to be one of the chief judges of the next race. It is well to 
have one who is practically acquainted with the business in 
hand — on a committee, as human beings call it. I must 
say I expect great things from the future — we have made so 
good a beginning.” 


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THE TRAVELLING COMPANION. 


OOR John was very sad ; for his father was very ill, and 

just dying. There was no one but the two in the little 
room, and the lamp had nearly burnt out ; for it was late in 
the night. 

“You have been a good son, John,” said the sick father, 
“ and God will help you on in the world.” He looked at him, 
as he spoke, with mild, earnest eyes, drew a deep sigh, and 
died ; yet it appeared as if he still slept 

John wept bitterly. He had no one in the wide world now ; 
neither father, mother, brother, nor sister. Poor John! he 
knelt down by the bed, kissed his dead father’s hand, and 
wept many, many bitter tears ; but at last his eyes closed, and 
he fell asleep with his head resting against the hard bed- 
post. 

Then he dreamed a strange dream: he thought he saw the 
sun shining upon him, and his father alive and well, and even 
heard him laughing as he used to do when he was very happy. 
A beautiful girl, with a golden crown on her head, and long, 
shining hair, gave him her hand; and his father said, “ See 
what a bride you have won. She is the loveliest maiden +n 
the whole earth.” Then he awoke, and all the beautiful 
things vanished before his eyes, his father lay dead on, the bed, 
and he was all alone. Poor John! ’ 


THE TRAVELLING COMPANION. figs 


The week after, the dead man was buried. John walked 
behind the coffin which contained his father, whom he so 
dearly loved, and would never again see. He heard the earth 
fall on the coffin-lid, and watched it till only a corner remained 
in sight, and at last that also disappeared. He felt as if his 
heart would break with its weight of sorrow, till those who 
stood round the grave sang a psalm, and the sweet, holy tones 
brought tears into his eyes, which relieved him. The sun 
shone brightly down on the green trees, as if it would say, 
“You must not be so sorrowful, John. Do you see the beau- 
tiful blue sky above you? Your father is up there, and he 
prays to the loving Father of all, that you may do well in the 
future.” ; 

“T will always be good,” said John, “and then I shall go 
to be with my father in heaven. What joy it will be when we 
see each other again! How much I shall have to relate to 
him, and how many things he will be able to explain to me of 
the delights of heaven, and teach me as he once did on earth. 
O, what joy it will be!” 

John pictured it all so plainly to himself, that he smiled 
even while the tears ran down his cheeks. 

The little birds in the chestnut-trees twittered, “ Tweet, 
tweet ;” they were so happy, although they had seen the 
funeral ; but they seemed as if they knew that the dead man 
was now in heaven, and that he had wings much larger and 
more beautiful than their own ; that he was happy now, be- 
cause he had.been good here on earth, and they were glad of 
it. John saw them fly away out of the green trees into the 
wide world, and he longed to fly with them ; but first he cut 
out a large wooden cross, to place on his father’s grave; and 
when he brought it there in the evening, he found the grave 
decked out with gravel and flowers. Strangers had done 
this, — they who had known the good old father who was now 
dead, and who had loved him very much. 

Early the next morning, John packed up his little bundle of 
clothes, and placed all his money, which consisted of fifty 
follars and a few shillings, in his girdle ; with this he deter- 
mined to try his fortune in the world. But first he went into 
the church-yard ; and, by his father’s grave, he said ‘“ Our 


78 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


Father ;” and then added: “ Farewell, dear father ; I will al- 
ways be a true and good man, and do thou ask the good 
God to make me good.” 

And as he passed through the fields, all the flowers looked 
fresh and beautiful in the warm sunshine, and nodded in the 
wind, as if they wished to say, ““Welcome to the green wood ; 
here all is fresh and bright.” 

Then John turned to have one more look at the old church, 
in which he had been christened in his infancy, and where his 
father had taken him every Sunday to hear the service and 
join in singing the psalms. As he looked at the old tower, 
he espied the ringer standing at one of the narrow openings, 
with his little pointed red cap on his head, and shading his 
eyes from the sun with his bent arm. John nodded farewell 
to him ; and the little ringer waved his red cap, laid his hand 
on his heart, and kissed his hand to him a great many times, 
to show that he felt kindly towards him, and wished him a 
prosperous journey. 

John continued his journey, and thought of all the wonder- 
ful things he should see in the large, beautiful world, till he 
found himself farther away from home than ever he had been 
before. He did not even know the names of the places he 
passed through, and could scarcely understand the language 
of the people he met, for he was far away in a strange land. 
The first night he slept on a hay-stack, out in the fields, for 
there was no other bed for him ; but it seemed to him so nice 
and comfortable that even a king need not wish for a better. 
The field, the brook, the hay-stack, with the blue sky above, © 
formed a beautiful sleeping-room. ‘The green grass, with the 
little red and white flowers, was the carpet ; the elder-bushes 
and the hedges of wild roses looked like garlands on the walls ; 
and for a bath he could have the clear, fresh water of the 
brook ; while the rushes bowed their heads to him, to wish 
him good morning and good evening. ‘The moon, like a large 
lamp, hung high up in the blue ceiling, anid he had no fear of 
its setting fire to his curtains. John slept here quite safely all 
night ; and when he awoke, the sun was up, and all the little 
birds were singing round him, “ Good morning! good morn- 
ing! Are you not up yet?” 


THE TRAVELLING COMPANION. 79 


It was Sunday, and the bells were ringing for church. As 
the people went in, John followed them; he heard God’s 
word, joined in singing the psalms, and listened to the 
preacher. It seemed to him just, as if he were in his own 
church, where he had been christened, and had sung the 
psalms with his father. Out in the church-yard were several 
graves, and on some of them the grass had grown very high. 
John thought of his father’s grave, which he knew at last 
would look like these, as he was not there to weed and attend 
to it. Then he set to work, pulled up the high grass, raised 
the wooden crosses which had fallen down, and replaced the 
wreaths which had been blown away from their places by the 
wind, thinking all the time, “ Perhaps some one is doing the 
same for my father’s grave, as I am not there to do it.” 

Outside the church-yard door stood an old beggar, leaning 
on his crutch. John gave him his silver shillings, and then he 
continued his journey, feeling lighter and happier than ever. 
Towards evening, the weather became very stormy, and he 
hastened on as quickly as he could, to get shelter; but it was 
quite dark by the time he reached a little lonely church which 

stood on a hill. “TI will go in here,” he said, “and sit down 
-inacorner ; for I am quite tired, and want rest.” 

So he went in, and seated himself; then he folded his 
hands, and offered up his evening prayer, and was soon fast 
asleep and dreaming, while the thunder rolled and the light- 
ning flashed without. When he awoke, it was still night ; but 
the storm had ceased, and the moon shone in upon him 
through the windows. Then he saw an open coffin standing 
in the centre of the church, which contained a dead man, 
waiting for burial. John was not at all timid ; he had a good 
conscience, and he knew also that the dead can never injure 
any one. It is living, wicked men who do harm to others. 
Two such wicked persons stood now by the dead man, whe 
had been brought to the church to be buried. Their evil in- 
tentions were to throw the poor dead body outside the church 
door, and not leave him to rest in his coffin. 

“Why do you do this?” asked John, when he saw what they 
were going to do; “it is very wicked. Leave him to rest in 
peace, in Christ’s name.” 


So ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


“ Bosh!” replied the two dreadful men. “He has cheated 
us ; he owed us money which he could not pay, and now he is 
dead we shall not get a penny; so we mean to have our 
revenge, and let him lie like a dog outside the church door.” 

“IT have only fifty dollars,” said John ; “it is all I own in 
the world, but I will give it to you if you will promise me 
faithfully to leave the dead man in peace. I shall be able to 
get on without the money ; I have strong and healthy limbs, 
and God will always help me.” 

“Why, of course,” said the horrid men, “if you will pay his 
debt we will both promise not to touch him. You may depend 
upon that ;” and then they took the money he offered them, 
laughed at him for his good nature, and went their way. 

Then he laid the dead body back in the coffin, folded the 
hands, and took leave of it; and went away contentedly 
through the great forest. All around him he could see the 
prettiest little elves dancing in the moonlight, which shone 
through the trees. They were not disturbed by his appear- 
ance, for they knew he was good and harmless among men. 
They are wicked people only who can never obtain a glimpse 
of fairies. Some of them were not taller than the breadth of 
a finger, and they wore golden combs in their long yellow hair. 
They were rocking themselves two together on the large dew- 
drops with which the leaves and the high grass were sprinkled. 
Sometimes the dew-drops would roll away, and then they fell 
down between the stems of the long grass, and caused a great 
deal of laughing and noise among the other little people. It 
was quite charming to watch them at play. Then they sang 
songs, and John remembered that he had learnt those pretty 
songs when he was a little boy. Large speckled spiders, with 
silver crowns on their heads, were employed to spin suspension 
bridges and palaces from one hedge to another, and when the 
tiny drops fell upon them, they glittered in the moonlight like 
shining glass. This continued till sunrise. Then the little 
elves crept into the flower buds, and the wind seized the 
bridges and palaces, and fluttered them in the air like cob-— 
webs. 

As John left the wood, a strong man’s voice called after him, 
“Hallo, comrade, where are you travelling?” 


THE TRAVELLING COMPANION. SI 


“Into the wide world,” he replied ; “I am only a poor lad; 
I have neither father nor mother, but God will help me.” 

“I am going into the wide world also,” replied the Stranger ; 
“shall we keep each other company ?” 

“With all my heart,” said he ; and so they went on together. 
Soon they began to like each other very much, for they were 
both good ; but John found out that the Stranger was much, 
more clever than himself. He had travelled all over the 
world, and could describe almost everything. The sun was 
high in the heavens when they seated themselves under a 
large tree to eat their breakfast, and at the same moment an 
old woman came toward them. 

She was very old and almost bent double. She leaned upon 
a stick and carried on her back a bundle of fire-wood, which 
she had collected in the forest ; her apron was tied round it, 
and John saw three great stems of fern and some willow twigs 
peeping out. Just as she came close up to them, her foot 
slipped and she fell to the ground screaming loudly: poor old 
woman, she had broken her leg! John proposed directly that 
they should carry the old woman home to her cottage ; but the 
Stranger opened his knapsack and took out a box, in which 
he said he had a salve that would quickly make her leg well 
and strong again, so that she would be able to walk home her- 
self, as if her leg had never been broken. And all that he 
would ask in return was the three fern stems which she car- 
ried in her apron. 

“That is rather too high a price,” said the old woman nod- 
ding her head quite strangely. She did not seem at all inclined 
to part with the fern stems. However, it was not very agree- 
able to lie there with a broken leg, so she gave them to him ; 
and such was the power of the ointment, that no sooner had 
he rubbed her leg with it than the old mother rose up and 
walked even better than she had done before. But then this 
wonderful ointment could not be bought at an apothecary’s. 

“What can you want with those three fern rods?” asked 
John of his fellow-traveller. 

“© they will make capital brooms,” said he ; “and I like 
them because I am a whimsical fellow.” Then they walked 


on together for a long distance. 
6 


82 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


“How dark the sky is becoming,” said John ; ‘and look at 
those thick, heavy clouds.” 
' “Those are not clouds,” replied his fellow-traveller ; “they 
are mountains — large lofty mountains — on the ‘tops of which 
we should be above the clouds, in the pure, free air. Believe 
me, it is delightful to ascend so high ; to-morrow we shall be 
there.” But the mountains were not so near as they appeared ; 
they had to travel a whole day before they reached them, and 
pass through black forests and piles of rock as large as a town. 
The journey had been so fatiguing that John and his fellow- 
traveller stopped to rest at a road-side inn, so that they might 
gain strength for their journey on the morrow. In the large 
public room of the inn a great many persons were assembled 
to see a comedy performed by dolls. The Showman had just 
erected his little theatre, and the people were sitting round 
the room to witness the performance. Right in front, in the 
very best place, sat a stout butcher, with a great bull-dog by 
his side who seemed very much inclined to bite. He sat 
staring with all his eyes, and so indeed did every one else in 
the room. And then the play began. It was a pretty piece, 
with a king and queen in it, who sat on a beautiful throne, and 
had gold crowns on their heads. The trains to their dresses 
were very long, according to the fashion ; while the prettiest 
of wooden dolls, with glass eyes and large moustaches, stood 
at the doors, and opened and shut them, that the fresh air 
might come into the room. It was a very pleasant play, not 
at all mournful ; but just as the Queen stood up and walked 
across the stage, the great bull-dog, who should have been 
held back by his master, made a spring forward, and caught 
the Queen in his teeth by the slender waist, so that it snapped 
in two. ‘This was a very dreadful disaster. The poor man, 
who was exhibiting the dolls, was much annoyed, and quite 
sad about his Queen ; she was the prettiest doll he had, and 
the bull-dog had broken her head and shoulders off. But 
after all the people were gone away, the Stranger, who came 
with John, said that he could soon set her to rights. And 
then he brought out his box and rubbed the doll with some of 
the salve with which he had cured the old woman when she 
broke her leg. As soon as this was done the doll’s back 


THE TRAVELLING COMPANION. 83 


became quite right again; her head and shoulders were fixed 
on, and she could even move her limbs herself: there was 
now no occasion to pull the wires, for the doll acted just like 
a living creature, excepting that she could not speak. The 
man to whom the show belonged was quite delighted at 
having a doll who could dance of herself without being pulled 
by the wires ; none of the other dolls could do this. 

During the night, when all the people at the inn were gone 
to bed, some one was heard to sigh so deeply and painfully, 
and the sighing continued for so long a time, that every one 
got up to see what could be the matter. The Showman went 
at once to his little theatre and found that it proceeded from 
the dolls, who all lay on ‘the floor sighing piteously, and 
staring with their glass eyes’; they all wanted to be rubbed 
with the ointment, so that, like the Queen, they might be able 
to move of themselves. The Queen threw herself on her 
knees, took off her beautiful crown, and, holding it in her 
hand, cried, “ ‘Take this from me, but do rub my husband and 
his courtiers.” 

The poor man who owned the theatre could scarcely refrain 
from weeping ; he was so sorry that he could not help them. 
Then he immediately spoke to John’s comrade, and promised 
him all the money he might receive at the next evening’s per- 
formance, if he would only rub the ointment on four or five 
of his dolls. But the fellow-traveller said he did not require 
anything in return, excepting the sword which the Showman 
wore by his side. As soon as he received the sword he 
anointed six of the dolls with the ointment, and they were 
able immediately to dance so gracefully that all the living 
girls in the room could not help joining in the dance. The 
coachman danced with the cook, and the waiters with the 
chambermaids, and all the strangers joined ; even the tongs 
and the fire-shovel made an attempt, but they fell down after 
the first jump. So, after all, it was a very merry night. The 
next morning John and his companion left the inn to continue 
their journey through the great pine-forests and over the high 
mountains. They arrived at last at such a great height that 
towns and villages lay beneath them, and the church steeples 
looked like little specks between the green trees. They 


8 4 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


could see for miles around, far away to places they had never 
visited, and John saw more of the beautiful world than he 
had ever known before. ‘The sun shone brightly in the blue 
firmament above, and through the clear mountain air came 
the sound of the huntsman’s horn, and the soft, sweet notes 
brought tears into his eyes, and he could not help exclaiming, 
“How good and loving God is to give us all this beauty and 
loveliness in the world to make us happy!” 

His fellow-traveller stood by with folded hands, gazing on 
the dark woods and the towns bathed in the warm sunshine. ~ 
At this moment there sounded over their heads sweet music. 
They looked up, and discovered a large white swan hovering 
in the air, and singing as never bird sang before. But the 
song soon became weaker and weaker, the bird’s head 
drooped, and he sunk slowly down, and lay dead at their feet. 

“Tt isa beautiful bird,” said the Traveller, “and these large 
white wings are worth a great deal of money. I will take 
them with me. You see now that a sword will be very 
useful.” 

So he cut off the wings of the dead swan'with one blow, 
and carried them away with him. 

‘They now continued their journey over the mountains for 
many miles, till they at length reached a large city, containing 
hundreds of towers, that shone in the sunshine like silver. 
In the midst of the city stood a splendid marble palace, 
roofed with pure red gold, in which dwelt the King. John 
and his companion would not go into the town immediately ; 
so they stopped at an inn outside the town, to change their 
clothes ; for they wished to appear respectable as they walked 
_ through the streets. The Landlord told them that the King 
was a very good man, who never injured any one; but as to 
his daughter, “ Heaven defend us!” 

She was indeed a wicked Princess. She possessed beauty 
enough — nobody could be more elegant or prettier than she 
was ; but what of that? for she was a wicked witch; and in 
consequence of her conduct many noble young princes had 
lost their lives. Any one was at liberty to make her an offer ; 
were he a prince or a beggar, it mattered not to her. She 
would ask him to guess three things which she had just 


THE TRAVELLING COMPANION. 85 


thought of, and if he succeeded, he was to marry her, and be 
king over all the land when her father died; but if he could 
not guess these three things, then she ordered him to be 
hanged or to have his head cut off. The old King, her 
father, was very much grieved at her conduct, but he could 
not prevent her from being so wicked, because he once said 
he would have nothing more to do with her lovers; she might 
do as she pleased. Each prince who came and tried the 
three guesses, so that he might marry the Princess, had been 
unable to find them out, and had been hanged or beheaded. 
They had all been warned in time, and might have left her 
alone, if they would. The old King became at last so dis- 
tressed at all these dreadful circumstances, that for a whole 
day every year he and his soldiers knelt and prayed that the 
Princess might become good ; but she continued as wicked as 
ever. The old women who drank brandy would color it 
quite black before they drank it, to show how they mourned ; 
and what more could they do? 

“What a horrible princess!” said John; “she ought to be 
well flogged. If I were the old King, I would have her pun- 
ished in some way.” 

Just then they heard the people outside shouting, ‘‘ Hur- 
rah!” and, looking out, they saw the Princess passing by ; 
and she was really so beautiful that everybody forgot her 
wickedness, and shouted, “ Hurrah!” Twelve lovely maid- 
ens in white silk dresses, holding golden tulips in their hands, 
rode by her side on coal-black horses. The Princess herself 
had a snow-white steed, decked with diamonds and rubies. 
Her dress was of cloth of gold, and the whip she held in her 
hand looked like a sunbeam. The golden crown on her head 
glittered like the stars of heaven, and her mantle was formed 
of thousands of butterflies’ wings sewn together. Yet she 
herself was more beautiful than all. 

When John saw her, his face became as red as a drop of 
blood, and he could scarcely utter a word. The Princess 
looked exactly like the beautiful lady with the golden crown, 
of whom he had dreamed on the night his father died. She 
appeared to him so lovely that he could not help loving her. 

“It could not be true,” he thought, “that she was really a 


86 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


wicked witch, who ordered people to be hanged or beheaded, 
if they could not guess her thoughts. Every one has permis- 
sion to go and ask her hand, even the poorest beggar. I 
shall pay a visit to the palace,” he said; “I must go, for 1 
cannot help myself.” 

Then they all advised him not to attempt it; for he would 
be sure to share the same fate as the rest. His fellow-traveller 
also tried to persuade him against it; but John seemed quite 
sure of success. He brushed his shoes and his coat, washed 
his face and his hands, combed his soft flaxen hair, and then 
went out alone into the town, and walked to the palace. 

“Come in,” said the King, as John knocked at the door. 
John opened it, and the old King, in a dressing-gown and 
embroidered slippers, came toward him. He had the crown 
on his head, carried his sceptre in one hand, and the orb in 
the other. “ Wait a bit,” said he, and he placed the orb 
under his arm, so that he could offer the other hand to John ; 
but when he found that John was another suitor, he began 
to weep so violently that both the sceptre and the orb fell 
to the floor, and he was obliged to wipe his eyes with his 
dressing-gown. Poor old King! ‘Let her alone,” he said ;. 
“vou will fare as badly as all the others. Come, I will show 
you.” Then he led him out into the Princess’s pleasure gar- 
dens, and there he saw a frightful sight. On every tree hung 
three or four king’s sons who had wooed the Princess, but had 
not been able to guess the riddles she gave them. Their 
skeletons rattled in every breeze,-so that the terrified birds 
never dared to venture into the garden. All the flowers were 
supported by human bones instead of sticks, and human 
skulls in the flower-pots grinned horribly. It was really a 
doleful garden for a princess. ‘Do you see all this?” said 
the old King ; “your fate will be the same as those who are 
here, therefore do not attempt it. You really make me very 
unhappy, — I take these things to heart so very much.” 

John kissed the good old King’s hand, and said he was sure 
it would be all right, for he was quite enchanted with the 
beautiful Princess. Then the Princess herself came riding 
into the palace yard with all her ladies, and he wished her 
“Good morning.” She looked wonderfully fair and lovely 


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THE TRAVELLING COMPANION. 89 


when she offered her hand to John, and he loved her more 
than ever. How could she be a wicked witch, as all the peo- 
ple asserted? He accompanied her into the hall, and the 
little pages offered them gingerbread nuts and sweetmeats ; 
but the old King was so unhappy he could eat nothing, and 
besides, gingerbread nuts were too hard for him. It was 
decided that John should come to the palace the next day, 
when the judges and the whole of the counselors would be 
present, to try if he could guess the first riddle. If he suc- 
ceeded, he would have to come a second time ; but if not, he 
would lose his life, — and no one had ever been able to guess 
even one. However, John was not at all anxious about the 
result of his trial; on the contrary, he was very merry. He 
thought only of the beautiful Princess, and believed that in 
some way he should have help, but how he knew not, and did 
not like to think about it; so he danced along the high-road 
as he went back to the inn, where he had left his fellow. 
traveller waiting for him. John could not refrain from telling 
him how gracious the Princess had been, and how beautiful 
she looked. He longed for the next day so much, that he 
might go to the palace and try his luck at guessing the riddles. 
But his comrade shook his head, and looked very mournful. 
“TI do so wish you to do well,” said he ; “we might have con- 
tinued together much longer, and now I am likely to lose 
you ; you poor dear John! I could shed tears, but I will not 
make you unhappy on the last night we may be together. 
We will be merry, really merry this evening ; to-morrow, after 
you are gone, I shall be able to weep undisturbed.” 

It was very quickly known among the inhabitants of the 
town that another suitor had arrived for the Princess, and 
there was great sorrow in consequence. ‘The theatre remained 
closed, the women who sold sweetmeats tied crape round the 
sugar-sticks, and the King and the priests were on their knees 
in the church. There was a great lamentation, for no one 
- expected John to succeed better than those who had been 
suitors before. 

In the evening John’s comrade prepared a large bowl of 
punch, and said, “Now let us be merry, and drink to the 
health of the Princess.” But after drinking two glasses, John 


gO ANDERSEN’S WONDER STOR/ES. 


became so sleepy, that he could not possibly keep his eyes 
open, and fell fast asleep. Then his fellow-traveller lifted 
him gently out of his chair, and laid him on the bed ; and as 
soon as it was quite dark, he took the two large wings which 
he had cut from the dead swan, and tied them firmly to his 
own shoulders. ‘Then he put into his pocket the largest of 
the three rods which he had obtained from the old woman 
who had fallen and broken her leg. After this he opened the 
window, and flew away over the town, straight towards the 
palace, and seated himself in a corner, under the window 
which looked into the bedroom of the Princess. 

The town was perfectly still when the clocks struck a quar- 
ter to twelve. Presently the window opened, and the Prin- 
cess, who had large black wings to her shoulders, and a long 
white mantle, flew away over the city towards a high moun- 
tain. The Fellow-traveller, who had made himself invisible, 
so that she cuuld not possibly see him, flew after her through 
the air, and whipped the Princess with his rod, so that the 
blood came whenever he struck her. Ah, it was a strange 
flight through the air! ‘The wind caught her mantle, so that 
it spread out on all sides, like the large sail of a ship, and the 
moon shone through it. ‘ How it hails, to be sure!” said 
the Princess, at each blow she received from the rod; and it 
served her right to be whipped. . 

At last she reached the side of the mountain, and knocked. 
The mountain opened with a noise like the roll of thunder, 
and the Princess went in. The Traveller followed her; no 
one could see him, as he had made himself invisible. They 
went through a long, wide passage. A thousand gleaming 
spiders ran here and there on the walls, causing them to glit- 
ter as if they were illuminated with fire. They next entered 
a large hall built of silver and gold. Large red and blue 
flowers shone on the walls, looking like sunflowers in size ; but 
no one could dare to pluck them, for the stems were hideous 
poisonous snakes, and the flowers were flames of fire, darting 
out of their jaws. Shining glow-worms covered the ceiling, 
and sky-blue bats flapped their transparent wings. Altogether 
the place had a frightful appearance. In the middle of the 
floor stood a throne supported by four skeleton horses, whose 


THE TRAVELLING COMPANION. QI 


harness had been made by fiery-red spiders. The throne 
itself was made of milk-white glass, and the cushions were 
little black mice, each biting the other’s tail. Over it hung a 
canopy of rose-colored spiders’ webs, spotted with the pret- 
tiest little green flies, which sparkled like precious stones. 
On the throne sat an old Magician with a crown on his ugly 
head, and a sceptre in his hand. He kissed the Princess on 
the forehead, seated her by his side on the splendid throne, 
and then the music commenced. Great black grasshoppers 
played the mouth organ, and the owl struck herself on the 
body instead of a drum. It was altogether a ridiculous con- 
cert. Little black goblins with false lights in their caps 
danced about the hall; but no one could see the Traveller, 
and he had placed himself just behind the throne where he 
could see and hear everything. The courtiers who came in | 
afterwards looked noble and grand; but any one with com- 
mon sense could see what they really were, only broomsticks, 
with cabbages for heads. The Magician had given them life, 
and dressed them in embroidered robes. It answered very 
well, as they were only wanted for show. After there had 
been a little dancing, the Princess told the Magician that she 
had a new suitor, and asked him what she should think of for 
the suitor to guess when he came to the castle the next 
morning. 

“Listen to what I say,’ said the Magician; “you must 
choose something very easy: he is less likely to guess it then. 
Think of one of your shoes: he will never imagine it is that. 
Then cut his head off; and mind you do not forget to bring 
his eyes with you to-morrow night, that I may eat them.” 

The Princess courtesied low, and said she would not forget 
the eyes. | 

The Magician then opened the mountain and she flew home 
again, but the Traveller followed and flogged her so much with 
the rod, that she sighed quite deeply about the heavy hail- 
storm, and made as much haste as she could to get back to 
her bedroom through the window. The Traveller then re- 
turned to the inn where John still slept, took off his wings 
and laid down on the bed, for he was very tired. Early in 
the morning John awoke, and when his fellow-traveller got 


92 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


up, he said that he had had a very wonderful dream about 
the Princess and, her shoe ; he therefore advised John to ask 
her if she had not thought of her shoe. Of course the Travel- 
ler knew this from what the Magician in the mountain had 
said. 

‘“‘T may as well say that as anything else,” said John. 
“Perhaps your dream may come true ; still I will say fare- 
well, for if I guess wrong I shall never see you again.” 

Then they embraced each other, and John went into the 
town and walked to the palace. The great hall was full of 
people, and the judges sat in arm-chairs, with eider-down 
cushions to rest their heads upon, because they had so much 
to think of. The old King stood near, wiping his eyes with 
his white pocket-handkerchief. When the Princess entered, 
she looked even more beautiful than she had appeared the 
day before, and greeted every one present most gracefully ; 
but to John she gave her hand, and said, ‘Good morning to 
you.” | 

Now came the time for John to guess what she was think- 
ing of ; and O, how kindly she looked at him as she spoke. 
But when he uttered the single word shoe, she turned as pale 
as a ghost; all her wisdom could not help her, for he had 
guessed rightly. O, how pleased the old King was! It was 
quite amusing to see how he capered about. All the people 
clapped their hands, both on his account and John’s, who had 
guessed rightly the first time. His fellow-traveller was glad 
also, when he heard how successful John had been. But 
John folded his hands, and thanked God, who, he felt quite 
sure, would help him again ; and he knew he had to guess 
twice more. ‘The evening passed pleasantly like the one pre- 
ceding. While John slept, his companion flew behind the 
Princess to the mountain, and flogged her even harder than 
before ; this time he had taken two rods with him. No one 
saw him go in with her, and he heard all that was said. The 
Princess this time was to think of a glove, and he told John 
as if he had again heard it ina dream. ‘The next day, there- 
fore, he was able to guess correctly the second time, and it 
caused great rejoicing at the palace. The whole court jumped 
about as they had seen the King do the day before, but the 


by 


THE TRAVELLING COMPANION. 93 


Princess lay on the sofa, and would not say a single word. 
All now depended upon John. If he only guessed rightly 
the third time, he would marry the Princess, and reign over 
the kingdom after the death of the old King ; but if he failed, 
he would lose his life, and the Magician would have his beau- 
tiful blue eyes. That evening John said his prayers and went 
to bed very early, and soon fell asleep calmly. But his com- 
panion tied on his wings to his shoulders, took three rods, 
and, with his sword at his side, flew to the palace. It was 
a very dark night, and so stormy that the tiles flew from the 
roofs of the houses, and the trees in the garden upon which 
the skeletons hung, bent themselves like reeds before the 
wind. The lightning flashed, and the thunder rolled in one 
long-continued peal all night. The window of the castle 
opened, and the Princess flew out. She was pale as death, 
but she laughed at the storm as if it were not bad enough. 
Her white mantle fluttered in the wind like a large sail, and 
the Traveller flogged her with the three rods till the blood 
trickled down, and at last she could scarcely fly ; she con- 
trived, however, to reach the mountain. “What a hail- 
storm!” she said, as she entered ; “I have never been out 
in such weather as this.” 

“Ves, there may be too much of a good thing sometimes,” 

said the Magician. 

_. Then the Princess told him that John had guessed rightly 
the second time, and if he succeeded the next morning, he 
would win, and she could never come to the mountain again, 
or practice magic as she had done, and therefore she was 
quite unhappy. 

“T will find out something for you to think of which he 
will never guess, unless he is a greater conjuror than myself,” 
said the Magician. “ But now let us be merry.” 

Then he took the Princess by both hands, and they danced 
with all the little goblins and jack o’ lanterns in the room. 
The red spiders sprang here and there on the walls quite as 
merrily, and the flowers of fire appeared as if they were throw- 
ing out sparks. The owl beat the drum, the crickets whistled, 
and the grasshoppers played the mouth organ. It was a very 
tidiculous ball. After they had danced enough, the Princess 


~Q4 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


was obliged to go home, for fear she should be missed at the 
palace. The Magician offered to go with her, that they might 
be company to each other on the way. Then they flew away 
through the bad weather, and the Traveller followed them, and 
broke his three rods across their shoulders. The Magician 
had never been out in such a hail-storm as this. Just by the 
palace the Magician stopped to wish the Princess farewell, 
and to whisper in her ear, “ ‘To-morrow think of my head.” 

But the Traveller heard it, and just as the Princess slipped 
through the window into her bedroom, and the Magician 
turned round to fly back to the mountain, he seized him by 
the long black beard, and with his sabre cut off the wicked 
conjuror’s head just behind his shoulders, so that he could 
not even see who it was. He threw the body into the sea 
to the fishes, and, after dipping the head into the water, he 
tied it up in a silk handkerchief, took it with him to the inn, 
and then went to bed. ‘The next morning he gave John the 
handkerchief, and told him not to untie Vt till the Princess 
asked him what she was thinking of. There were so many 
people in the great hall of the palace that they stood as 
thick as radishes tied together ina bundle. The council sat 
in their arm-chairs with the white cushions. The old King 
wore new robes, and the golden crown and sceptre had been 
polished up so that he looked quite smart. But the Princess 
was very pale, and wore a black dress as if she were going to 
a funeral. 

““What have I thought of?” asked the Princess, of John. 
He immediately untied the handkerchief, and was himself 
quite frightened when he saw the head of the ugly Magician. 
Every one shuddered, for it was terrible to look at; but the 
Princess sat like a statue and could not utter a single word. 
At length she rose and gave John her hand, for he had 
guessed rightly. 

She looked at no one, but sighed deeply, and said, “ You 
are my master now; this evening our marriage must take 
place.” 

“JT am very much pleased to hear it,” said the old King. 
“Tt is just what I wish.” 

Then all the people shouted “ Hurrah!” The band played 


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THE TRAVELLING COMPANION. 97 


music in the street, the bells rang, and the cake-women took 
the black crape off the sugar-sticks. There was universal joy. 
Three oxen, stuffed with ducks and chickens, were roasted 
whole in the market-place, where every one might help him- 
self to a slice. The fountains spouted forth the most deli- 
cious wine, and whoever bought a penny loaf at the baker’s 
received six large buns, full of raisins, as a present. In the 
evening the whole town was illuminated. The soldiers fired 
off cannons, and the boys let off crackers. There was eating 
and drinking, dancing and jumping everywhere. In the pal- 
ace, the high-born gentlemen and the beautiful ladies danced 
with each other, and they could be heard at a great distance 
singing the following song : — 
“‘ Here are maidens, young and fair, 
Dancing in the summer air ; 
Like to spinning-wheels at play, 
Pretty maidens dance away, — 


Dance the spring and summer through 
Till the sole falls from your shoe.” 


But the Princess was still a witch, and she could not love 
John. His fellow-traveller had thought of that, so he gave 
John three feathers out of the swan’s wings, and a little bottle 
with a few drops in it. He told him to place a large bath 
full of water by the Princess’s bed, and put the feathers and 
the drops into it. Then, at the moment she was about to 
get into bed, he must give her a little push, so that she might 
fall into the water, and then dip her three times. This would 
destroy the power of the Magician, and she would love him 
very much. 

John did all that his companion told him to do. The 
Princess shrieked aloud when he dipped her under the water 
the first time, and struggled under his hands in the form of a 
great black swan with fiery eyes. As she rose the second 
time from the water, the swan had become white, with a 
black ring round its neck. John allowed the water to close 
once more over the bird, and at the same time it changed 
into a most beautiful Princess. She was more lovely even 
than before, and thanked him, while her eyes sparkled with 
tears, for having broken the spell of the Magician. 


98 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


The next day, the King came with the whole court to offer 
their congratulations, and stayed till quite late. Last of all 
came the Travelling Companion ; he had his staff in his hand 
and his knapsack on his back. John kissed him many times 
and told him he must not go, he must remain with him, for 
he was the cause of all his good fortune. But the Traveller 
shook his head, and said gently and kindly, “No: my time 
is up now; I have only paid my debt to you. Do you remem- 
ber the dead man whom the bad people wished to throw out 
of his coffin? You gave all you possessed that he might rest 
in his grave ; I am the dead man.” As he said this, he van- 
ished. 

The wedding festivities lasted a whole month. John and 
his Princess loved each other dearly, and the old King lived 
to see many a happy day, when he took their little children 
on his knees and let them play with his sceptre. And John 
became king over the whole country. 


Ne rf N= =e 


| 1) 
| Hh 
aN | 


f 


M : 


Y4 : ye | 
Saha OY ae 2M 
——= aps = <u 


THE MARSH-KING’S DAUGHTER. 99 


THE MARSH-KING’S DAUGHTER. 


HE storks tell to their little ones many tales, all from 

the swamps and the bogs, and suited to the age and 
capacity of the hearers. ‘The smallest youngsters are con- 
tented with mere sound, such as “kribble, krabble, plurre- 
mutre,” and think it very grand; but the more advanced 
require something rational, or at least something about their » 
family. Of the two most ancient and longest traditions that 
have been handed down among the storks, we are all ac- 
quainted with one — that about Moses, who was placed by his 
mother on the banks of the Nile, was found there by the 
king’s daughter, was well brought up, and became a great 
man, such as has never been heard of since in the place 
where he was buried. 

The other story is not well known, probably because it is a 
tale of home ; yet it has passed down from one stork grandam 
to another for a thousand years, and each succeeding narrator 
has told it better and better, and now we shall tell it best 
of all. 

The first pair of storks who related this tale had themselves 
something to do with its events. The place of their summer 
sojourn was at the Viking’s castle, up by “te wild morass, at 
Vendsyssel. It is in Hjoring district, away near Skagen, in 
the north of Jutland, speaking with geographical precision. 
It is now an enormous bog, as one can read in the County 
Guide. This place was once the bottom of the sea; but the 
waters have receded, and the ground has risen. It stretches 
itself for miles on all sides, surrounded by wet meadows and 
pools of water, by peat-bogs, cloudberries, and miserable 
stunted trees. A heavy mist almost always hangs over this 
place, and about seventy years ago wolves were found there. 
It is rightly called “the wild morass ;” and one may imagine 
how savage it must have been, and how much swamp and sea 
must have existed there a thousand years ago. Yes, in these 
respects the same was to be seen there as is to be seen now. 
The rushes had the same height, the same sort of long leaves, 


100 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


and blue-brown, feather-like flowers, that they bear now; the 
birch-tree stood with its white bark, and delicate drooping 
leaves, as now; and, in regard to the living creatures, the flies 
had the same sort of crape clothing as they wear now; and 
the storks’ bodies were white, with black and red stockings. 
Mankind, on the contrary, at that time wore coats cut in 
another fashion from what they do in our days ; but every one 
of them, serf or huntsman, whosoever he might be who trod 
upon the quagmire, fared a thousand years ago as they fare 
now: one step forward — they fell in, and sank down to the 
MAaRSH-KING, as Ae was called, who reigned below in the great 
morass kingdom. They also called him Gunke-king, but we 
like Marsh-king better, and we will give him that name, as 
the storks do. Very little is known about his rule, but that 
is, perhaps, a good thing. 

Near the bog, close by Liimfjorden, lay the Viking’s castle 
of three stories high, and with a tower and stone cellars. 
The storks had built their nest upon the roof of this dwelling. 
The female Stork sat upon her eggs, and felt certain they 
would be all hatched. 

One evening the male Stork remained out very long, and 
when he came home he looked rumpled and flurried. 

“I have something very terrible to tell thee,” he said to the 
female Stork. 

“Thou hadst better keep it to thyself,” said she. ‘“ Remem- 
ber I am sitting upon the eggs: a fright might do me harm, 
and the eggs might be injured.” 

“But iti mus? be: told thee,” “heyrephied: 2 “She has: come 
here — the daughter of our host in Egypt. She has ventured 
the long journey up hither, and she is lost.” 

‘She whois of the fairies’ race? Speak, then!  “Uhou 
knowest that I cannot bear suspense while I am sitting.” 

“Know, then, mother, that she believed what the doctors 
said, which thou didst relate to me. She believed that the 
bog-plants up here could cure her invalid father ; and she has 
flown hither, in the magic disguise of a swan, with the two 
other swan princesses, who every year come hither to the 
north to bathe and renew their youth. She has come, and 
she is lost.” 


THE MARSH-KING’S DAUGHTER. IOI 


“Thou dost spin the matter out so long,” muttered the 
female Stork, “the eggs will be quite cooled. I cannot bear 
suspense just now.” 

“T will come to the point,” replied the male. ‘This even- 
ing I went to the rushes where the quagmire could bear me. 
There came three swans. There was something in their 
motions which said to me, ‘Take care; they are not real 
swans; they are only the appearance of swans, created by 
magic.’ Thou wouldst have known as well as I that they 
were not of the right sort.” | 

“Ves, surely,” she said ; “but tell me about the Princess. 
I am tired of hearing about the swans.” 

“Tn the midst of the morass —here, I must tell thee, it is 
like a lake,” said the male Stork ; “thou canst see a portion 
of it if thou wilt raise thyself up a moment — yonder, by the 
rushes and the green morass, lay a large stump of an alder- 
tree. ‘The three swans alighted upon it, flapped their wings, 
and looked about them. One of them cast off her swan dis- 
guise, and I recognized in her our royal Princess from Egypt. 
She sat now with no other mantle around her than her long 
dark hair. I heard her desire the other two to take good 
care of her magic swan garb, while she ducked down under 
the water to pluck the flower which she thought she saw. 
They nodded, and raised the empty feather dress between 
them. ‘What are they going to do with it?’ said I to myself; 
and she probably asked herself the same question. The 
answer came too soon, for I saw them take flight up into the 
air with her charmed feather dress. ‘Dive thou there!’ they 
cried. ‘Never more shalt thou fly in the form of a magic 
swan—never more shalt thou behold the land of Egypt. 
Dwell thou zz the wild morass /’ And they tore her magic 
disguise into a hundred pieces, so that the feathers whirled 
about as if there were a fall of snow; and away flew the two 
worthless princesses.” 

“It is shocking!” said the lady Stork; “I can’t bear to 
hear it. ‘Tell me what more happened.” 

“The Princess sobbed and wept. Her tears trickled down 
-upon the trunk of the alder-tree, and then it moved; for it 
was the Marsh-king himself —he who dwells in the morass. 


IO2 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


I saw the trunk turn itself, and then there was no more trunk 
— it struck up two long miry branches like arms; then the 
poor child became dreadfully alarmed, and she sprang aside 
upon the green, slimy coating of the marsh ; but it could not 
bear me, much less her, and she sank immediately in. The 
trunk of the alder-tree went down with her—it was that 
which had dragged her down; then arose to the surface large 
black bubbles, and all further traces of her disappeared. 
She is now buried in ‘the wild morass ;’ and never, never 
shall’she return to Egypt with the flower she sought. Thou 
couldst not have borne to have seen all this, mother.” 

‘Thou ought not to tell me such a startling tale at a time 
like this. ‘The eggs may suffer. ‘The Princess can take care 
of herself: she will, no doubt, be rescued. If it had been me, 
or thee, or any of our family, it would have been all over 
with us.” 

“‘T will look after her every day, however,” said the male 
Stork ; and so he did. . | 

A long time had elapsed, when one day he saw that far 
down from the bottom was shooting up a green stem, and 
when it reached the surface a leaf grew on it. The leaf 
became broader and broader; close by it came a bud; and 
one morning, when the Stork flew over it, the bud opened in 
the warm sunshine, and in the centre of it lay a beautiful 
infant, a little girl, just as if she had been taken out of a 
bath. She so strongly resembled the Princess from Egypt, 
that the Stork at first thought it was herself who had become 
an infant again ; but when he considered the matter, he came 
to the conclusion that she was the daughter of the Princess 
and the Marsh-king, therefore she lay in the calyx of a water- 
lily. 

‘She cannot be left lying there,” said the Stork to himself; 
“yet in my nest we are already too over-crowded. But a> 
thought strikes me. ‘The Viking’s wife has no children ; she 
has much wished to have a pet. I am often blamed for bring- 
ing little ones. I shall now, for once, do so in reality. I 
shall fly with this infant to the Viking’s wife: it will be a 
great pleasure to her.” 

And the Stork took the little girl, flew to the castle, ieee 


THE MARSH-KING’S DAUGHTER. 103 


with his beak a hole in the window-pane of stretched bladder, 
laid the infant in the arms of the Viking’s wife, then flew to 
his mate, and unburdened his mind to her; while the little 
ones listened attentively, for they were old enough now to 
do that. 

“Only think, the Princess is not dead. She has sent her 
little one up here, and now it is well provided for.” 

“T told thee from the beginning it would be all well,” said 
the mother Stork. “Turn thy thoughts now to thine own 
family. Itis almost time for our long journey ; I begin now 
to tingle under the wings. The cuckoo and the nightingale 
are already gone, and I hear the quails saying that we shall 
soon have a fair-wind. Our young ones are quite able to go, 
I know that.” 

How happy the Viking’s wife was, when, in the morning, 
she awoke and found the lovely little child lying on her 
breast! She kissed it and caressed it, but it screeched fright- 
fully, and floundered about with its little arms and legs: 17 
evidently seemed little pleased. At last it cried itself to 
sleep, and as it lay there it was one of the most beautiful lit- 
tle creatures that could be seen. ‘The Viking’s wife was so 
pleased and happy, she took it into her head that her hus- 
band, with all his retainers, would come as unexpectedly as 
the little one had done; and she set herself and the whole 
household to work, in order that everything might be ready 
for their reception. The colored tapestry which she and her 
women had embroidered with representations of their gods — 
Opin, THor, and FReEtA, as they were called—were hung 
up ; the serfs were ordered to clean and polish the old shields 
with which the walls were to be decorated ; cushions were 
laid on the benches ; and dry logs of wood were heaped on 
the fire-place in the centre of the hall, so that the pile might 
be easily lighted. The Viking’s wife labored so hard herself 
that she was quite tired by the evening, and slept soundly. 

When she awoke towards morning she became much 
alarmed, for the little child was gone. She sprang up, lighted 
a twig of the pine-tree, and looked about ; and, to her amaze- 
ment, she saw, in the part of the bed to which she stretched 
her feet, not the beautiful infant, but a great ugly frog. She 


104 ANDERSEN’ S WONDER STORIES. 


was so much disgusted with it that she took up a heavy stick, 
and was going to kill the nasty creature ; but it looked at her 
with such wonderfully sad and speaking eyes that she could 
not strike it. Again she searched about. The frog gave a 
faint, pitiable cry. She started up, and sprang from the bed 
to the window; she opened the shutters, and at the same 
moment the sun streamed in, and cast its bright beams upon 
the bed and upon the large frog; and all at once it seemed 
as if the broad mouth of the noxious animal drew itself in, 
and became small and red—the limbs stretched themselves 
into the most beautiful form—dit was her own little lovely 
child that lay there, and no ugly frog. 

“What is all this?” she exclaimed. “Have I dreamed a 
bad dream? ‘That certainly is my pretty little elfin child lying 
yonder.” And she kissed it and strained it affectionately to 
her heart ; but it struggled, and tried to bite like the kitten 
of a wild cat. 

Neither the next day nor the day after came the Viking, 
though he was on the way, but the wind was against him ; it 
was for the storks. A fair wind for one is a contrary wind 
for another. 

In the course of a few days and nights it became evident 
to the Viking’s wife how things stood with the little child — 
that it was under the influence of some terrible witchcraft. 
By day it was as beautiful as an angel, but it had a wild, evil 
disposition ; by night, on the contrary, it was an ugly frog, 
quiet, except for its croaking, and with melancholy eyes. It 
had two natures, that changed about, both without and within. 
This arose from the little girl whom the Stork had brought 
possessing by day her own mother’s external appearance, and 
at the same time her father’s temper; while by night, on the 
contrary, she showed her connection with him outwardly in 
her form, whilst her mother’s mind and heart inwardly became 
hers. What art could release her from the power which exer- 
cised such sorcery over her? The Viking’s wife felt much 
anxiety and distress about it; and yet her heart hung on the 
poor little being, of whose strange state she thought she should 
not dare to inform her husband when he came home; for he 
assuredly, as was the custom, would put the poor child out on 


THE MARSH-KING’S DAUGHTER. IO5 


the high road, and let any one take it who would. The 
Viking’s good-natured wife had not the heart to allow this ; 
therefore she resolved that he should never see the child but 
by day. 

At dawn of day the wings of the storks were heard flutter- 
ing over the roof. During the night more than a hundred 
pairs of storks had been making their preparations, and now 
they flew up to wend their way to the south. 

Bovemrale the males be ready,” was the cry. “ Let: their 
mates and little ones join them,” 

“‘ How light we feel!” said the young storks, who were all 
impatience to be off. “‘ How charming to be able to travel to 
other lands!” 

“Keep ye all together in one flock,” cried the father and 
mother, “and don’t chatter so much —it will take away your 
breath.” 

So they all flew away. 

About the same time the blast of a horn sounding over the 
heath gave notice that the Viking had landed with all his 
men; they were returning home with rich booty from the 
Gallic coast, where the people, as in Britain, sang in their 
TERLOF;—— 


‘Save us from the savage Normands !” 


What life and bustle were now apparent in the Viking’s 
castle near “the wild morass”! Casks of mead were brought 
into the hall, the pile of wood was lighted, and horses were 
slaughtered for the grand feast which was to be prepared. 
The sacrificial priests sprinkled with the horses’ warm blood 
the slaves who were to assist in the offering. The fires 
crackled, the smoke rolled up under the roof, the soot dropped 
from the beams ; but people were accustomed to that. Guests 
were invited, and they brought handsome gifts; rancor and 
falseness were forgotten; they all became drunk together, 
and they thrust their doubled fists into each other’s faces — 
which was a sign of good-humor. ‘The skald —he was a sort 
of poet and musician, but at the same time a warrior — who 
had been with them, and had witnessed what he sang about, 
gave them a song, wherein they heard recounted all their 


7 


106 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


achievements in battle, and wonderful adventures. At the 
end of every verse came the same refrain, — 


“Fortune dies, friends die, one dies one’s self; but a glorious name never 
dies.” 


And then they all struck on their shields, and thundered with 
their knives or their knuckle-bones on the table, so that they 
made a tremendous noise. 

The Viking’s wife sat on the cross bench in the open ban- 
quet-hall. She wore a silk dress, gold bracelets, and large 


amber beads. She was in her grandest attire, and the skald 


nained her also in his song, and spoke of the golden treasure 
she had brought her husband ; and HE rejoiced in the lovely 
child he had only seen by daylight, in all its wondrous beauty. 
The fierce temper which accompanied her exterior charms 
pleased him. “She might become,” he said, “a_ stalwart 


female warrior, and able to kill a giant adversary. Shes 


never even blinked her eyes when a practiced hand, in. sport, 
cut off her eyebrows with a sharp sword. 
The mead casks were emptied, others were brought up, and 
these, too, were drained; for there were folks present who 
could stand a good deal. To them might have been applied 
the old proverb, “The cattle know when to leave the pasture ; 
but an unwise man never knows the depth of his stomach.” 
Yes, they all knew it; but people often knew the right 
thing, and do the wrong. They knew also that “one wears 


out one’s welcome when one stays too long in another man’s 


house ;” but they remained there for all that. Meat and mead 
are good things. All went on merrily, and towards night the 
slaves slept amidst the warm ashes, and dipped their fingers 
into the fat skimmings of the soup, and licked them. It Was 
a rare time! 

And again the Viking went forth on an expedition, notwith- 
standing the stormy weather. He went after the crops were 
gathered in. He went with his men to the coast of Britain, 
— “it was only across the water,” he said,— and his wife re- 
mained at home with her little girl: and it was soon. to be 
seen that the foster mother cared almost more for the poor 
frog, with the honest eyes and plaintive croaking, than for 
the beauty who scratched and bit everybody around. 2 


ihe * 


THE MARSH-KINGS DAUGHTER. 107 


The raw, damp, autumn mist, that loosens the leaves from 
the trees, lay over wood and hedge ; “ Birdfeatherless,” as the 
snow is called, was falling thickly ; winter was close at hand. 
The sparrows seized upon the Storks’ nest, and talked over, 
in their fashion, the absent owners. They themselves, the 
Stork pair, with all their young ones, where were they now? 


The Storks were now in the land of Egypt, where the sun 
was shining warmly as with us on a lovely summer day. The 
tamarind and the acacia grew there; the moonbeams 
streamed over the temples of Mohammed. On the slender 
minarets sat many a pair of storks, reposing after their long 
journey ; the whole’immense flock had fixed themselves, nest 
by nest, amidst the mighty pillars and broken porticoes of 
temples and forgotten edifices. The date-tree elevated to a 
great height its broad leafy roof, as if it wished to form a 
shelter fromthe sun. The gray pyramids stood with their 
outlines sharply defined in the clear air towards the desert, 
where the ostrich knew he could use his legs; and the lion 
sat with his large grave eyes, and gazed on the marble 
sphinxes that iay half imbedded in the sand. ‘The waters of 
the Nile had receded, and a great part of the bed of the river 
was swarming with frogs; and that, to the Stork family, was 
the pleasantest sight in the country where they had arrived. 
The young ones were astonished at all they saw. 

“Such are the sights here, and thus it always is in our warm 
_ country,” said the Stork-mother good-humoredly. 

“Is there yet more to be seen?” they asked. ‘‘Shall we go 
much further into the country?” | 

“There is nothing more worth seeing,” replied the Stork- 
mother. “Beyond this luxuriant neighborhood there is 
nothing but wild forests, where the trees grow close to each 
other, and are still more closely entangled by prickly creep- 
ing plants, weaving such a wall of verdure, that only the 
elephant, with his strong, clumsy feet, can there tread his way. 
The snakes are too large for us there, and the lizards too 
lively. If ye would go to the desert, ye will meet with nothing 
but sand ; it will fill your eyes, it will come in gusts, and 
cover r your feathers. No, it is best here. Here are frogs and 
ord oe shall remain here, and so shall you.’ 


108 ANDERSEN'S WONDER STORIES. 


And they remained. The old ones sat in their nest upon. 
the graceful minaret ; they reposed themselves, and yet they 
had enough to do to smooth their wings and rub their beaks 
on their red stockings ; and they stretched out their necks, 
saluted gravely, and lifted up their heads with their high fore- 
heads and fine, soft feathers, and their brown eyes looked so 
wise. 

The female young ones strutted about proudly among the 
juicy reeds, stole sly glances at the other young storks, made 
acquaintances, and slaughtered a frog at every third step, or 
went lounging about with little snakes in their bills, which 
they fancied looked well, and which they knew would taste 
well. | 

The male young ones got into quarrels ; struck each. other 
with their wings ; pecked at each other with their beaks, even 
until blood flowed. Then they all thought of engaging them- 
selves —the male and the female young ones. It was for that 
they lived, and they built nests, and got again into new quar- 
rels ; for in these warm countries every one is so hot-headed. 
Nevertheless they were very happy, and this was a great joy 
to the old storks. Every day there was warm sunshine — 
every day plenty to eat. They had nothing to think of ex- 
cept pleasure. But yonder, within the splendid palace of 
their Egyptian host, as they called him, there was but little 
pleasure to be found. 

The wealthy, mighty chief lay upon his couch, stiffened in 
all his limbs — stretched out like a mummy in the centre of 
the grand saloon with the many-colored painted walls: it was 
as if he were lying in a tulip. Kinsmen and servants stood 
around him. Dead he was not, yet it could hardly be said 
that he lived. The healing bog-flower from the far-away lands 
in the north — that which she was to have sought and plucked 
for him— she who loved him best— would never now be 
brought. His beautiful young daughter, who in the magic 
garb of a swan had flown over sea and land away to the 
distant north, would never more return. ‘She is dead and 
gone,” had the two swan ladies, her companions, declared on 
their return home. They had concocted a tale, and they told 


it as follows :— a 


THE MARSH-KING’S DAUGHTER. 109g 


“We had flown all three high up in the air when a sports- 
man saw us, and shot at us with his arrow. It struck our young 
friend ; and, slowly singing her farewell song, she sank like a 
dying swan down into the midst of the lake in the wood. 
There, on its banks, under a fragrant weeping birch-tree, we 
buried her. But we took a just revenge : we bound fire under 
the wings of the swallow that built under the sportsman’s 
thatched roof. It kindled—his house was soon in flames 
—he was burned within it— and the flames shone as far 
over the sea as to the drooping birch, where she is now earth 
within the earth. Alas! never will she return to the land of 
Egypt.” 

And they both wept bitterly ; and the old Stork-father, 
when he heard it, rubbed his bill until it was quite sore. 

“Lies and deceit!” he cried. “I should like, above all 
things, to run my beak into their breasts.” 

“ And break it off,’ said the Stork-mother ; “you would 
look remarkably well then. ‘Think first of yourself, and the 
interests of your own family ; everything else is of little con- 
sequence.” 

“T will, however, place myself upon the edge of the open 
cupola to-morrow, when all the learned and the wise are to 
assemble to take the case of the sick man into consideration : 
perhaps they may then arrive a little nearer to the truth.” 

And the learned and the wise met together, and talked 
much, deeply, and profoundly, of which the Stork could make 
nothing at all ; and, sooth to say, there was no result obtained 
from all this talking, either for the invalid or for his daughter 
in “the wild morass ;” yet, nevertheless, it was all very well 
to listen to — one must listen to a great deal in this world. 

But now it were best, perhaps, for us to hear what had hap- 
pened formerly. We shall then be better acquainted with 
the story —at least, we shall know as much as the Stork- 
father did. 

“Love bestows life ; the highest love bestows the highest 
life ; it is only through love that his life can be saved,” was 
what had been said ; and it was amazingly wisely and well 
said, the learned declared. 

“Tt is a beautiful thought,” said the Stork-father. 


iO ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


“T don’t quite comprehend it,” said the Stork-mother, “ but 
that is not my fault — it is the fault of the thought: though 
it is all one to me, for I have other things to think upon.” 

And then the learned talked of love between this and that 
—-that there was a difference. Love such as lovers felt, and 
that between parents and children ; between light and plants ; 
how the sunbeams kissed the ground, and how, thereby, the 
seeds sprouted forth —it was all so diffusely and learnedly 
expounded, that it was impossible for the Stork-father to 
follow the discourse, much less to repeat it. It made him 
very thoughtful, however ; he half closed his eyes, and actu- 
ally stood on one leg the whole of the next day, reflecting on 
what he had heard. So much learning was difficult for him 
to digest. 

But this much the Stork-father understood. He had heard 
both common people and great people speak as if they really 
felt it, that it was a great misfortune to many thousands, and 
to the country in general, that the King lay so ill, and that 
nothing could be done to bring about his recovery. It would 
be a joy and a blessing to all if he could but be restored to 
health. 

“But where grew the health-giving flower that might cure 
him?” Everybody asked that question. Scientific writings 
were searched, the glittering stars were consulted, the wind 
and the weather. Every traveller that could be found was ap- 
pealed to, until, at length, the learned and the wise, as before 
stated, pitched upon this: “ Love bestows life — life to a 
father.” And though this dictum was really not understood 
by themselves, they adopted it, and wrote it out as.a prescrip- 
tion. “Love bestows life” —well and good. But how. was 
this to be applied? Here they were at astand. At length, 
however, they agreed that the Princess must be the means of 
procuring the necessary help, as she loved her father with 
all her heart and soul. They also agreed on a mode of 
proceeding. It is more than a year and a day since then. 
They settled that, when the new moon had just disappeared, 
she was to betake herself by night to the marble sphinx in” 
the. desert, to remove the sand from the entrance with her 
foot, and then to follow one of the long passages which led 


yt 


THE MARSH-KING’S DAUGHTER. 5 ht fe 


to the centre of the great pyramids, where one of the most 
mighty monarchs of ancient times, surrounded by splendor 
and magnificence, lay in his mummy-coffin. ‘There she was 
to lean her head over the corpse, and then it would be 
revealed to her where life and health for her father were to 
be found. 

All this she had performed, and in a dream had been 
instructed that from the deep morass high up in the Danish 
land —the place was minutely described to her— she might 
bring home a certain lotus-flower, which beneath the water 
would touch her breast, that would cure him. 

And therefore she had flown, in the magical disguise of a 
swan, from Egypt up to “the wild morass.” All this was 
well known to the Stork-father and the Stork-mother ; and 
now, though rather late, we also know it. We know that the 
Marsh-king dragged her down with him, and that, as far as 
regarded her home, she was dead and gone; only the wisest 
of them all said, like the Stork-mother, “She can take care 
of herself ;” and, knowing no better, they waited to see what 
would turn up. 

“T think I shall steal their swan garbs from the two wicked 
princesses,” said the Stork-father ; “then they will not be 
able to go to ‘the wild morass’ and do mischief. I shall 
leave the swan disguises themselves up yonder till there is 
some use for them.” 

“Where could you keep them?” asked the old female 
Stork. 

“Tn our nest near ‘the wild morass,’” he replied. “I and 
our eldest young ones can carry them ; and if we find them 
too troublesome, there are plenty of places on the way where 
we can hide them until our next flight. One swan’s dress 
would be enough for her, to be sure ; but two are better. It 
it a good thing to have abundant means of travelling at com- 
mand in a country so far north.” 

“You will get no thanks for what you propose doing,” said 
the Stork-mother ; “ but you are the master, and must please 
-yourself. I have nothing to say except at hatching-time.” 


At the Viking’s castle near “the wild morass,” whither the 


TIT? ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


Storks were flying in the spring, the little girl had received 
her name. She was called Helga; but this name was too 
soft for one with such dispositions as that lovely creature had. 
She grew fast month by month; and in a few years, even 
while the Storks were making their habitual journeys in 
autumn towards the Nile, in spring towards “the wild mo- 
rass,” the little child had grown up into a big girl, and before 
any one could have thought it, she was in her sixteenth year, 
and a most beautiful young lady — charming in appearance, 
but hard and fierce in temper — the most savage of the savage 
in that gloomy, cruel time. 

It was a pleasure to her to sprinkle with her white hands 
the reeking blood of the horse slaughtered for an offering. 
She would bite, in her barbarous sport, the neck of the black- 
cock which was to be slaughtered by the sacrificial priest ; 
and to her foster-father she said, in positive earnestness, — 

“If your enemy were to come and cast ropes over the 
beams that support the roof, and drag them down upon your 
chamber whilst you were sleeping, I would not awaken you if 
I could — I would not hear it — the blood would tingle as it 
does now in that ear on which, years ago, ae dared to give 
me a blow. I remember it well.” 

But the Viking did not believe she spoke seriously. — cae 
every one else, he was fascinated by her extreme beauty, and 
never troubled himself to observe if the mind of little Helga 
were in unison with her looks. She would sit on horseback — 
without a saddle, as if grown fast to the animal, and go at full 
gallop ; nor would she spring off, even if her horse and other 
ill-natured ones were biting each other. Entirely dressed as 
she was, she would cast herself from the bank into the strong 
current of the fiord, and swim out to meet the Viking when his 
boat was approaching the land. Of her thick, ‘splendid hair 
she had cut off the longest lock, and plaited for herself a string 
to her bow. 

“ Self-made is well made,” she said. 

The Viking’s wife, according to the manners and customs of 
the age in which she lived, was strong in mind and decided 
in purpose ; but with her daughter she was like a soft, timid 
woman. She was well aware that the dreadful child was 
under the influence of sorcery. 


THE MARSH-KINGS DAUGHTER. I1l3 


And Helga apparently took a malicious pleasure in fright- 
ening her mother. Often when the latter was standing on the 
balcony, or walking in the court-yard, Helga would place 
herself on the side of the well, throw her arms up in the air, 
and then let herself fall headlong into the narrow, deep hole, 
where, with her frog nature, she would duck and raise herself 
up again, and then crawl up as if she had been a cat, and run 
dripping with water into the grand saloon, so that the green 
rushes which were strewed over the floor partook of the wet 
stream. 

There was but one restraint upon httle Helga —that was 
the evening twilight. Init she became quiet and thoughtful 
— would allow herself to be called and guided ; then too she 
would seem to feel some affection for her mother ; and when 
the sun sank, and the outer and inward change took place, she 
would sit still and sorrowful, shriveled up into the form of a 
frog, though the head was now much larger than that little 
animal’s, and therefore she was uglier than ever: she looked 
like a miserable dwarf, with a frog’s head and webbed fingers. 
There was something very sad in her eyes; voice she had 
none except a kind of croak, like a child sobbing in its dreams. 
Then would the Viking’s wife take her in her lap ; she would 
forget the ugly form, and look only at the melancholy eyes ; 
and more than once she exclaimed, — 

“T could almost wish that thou wert always my dumb fairy- 
child, for thou art more fearful to look at when thy form re- 
sumes its beauty.” 

And she wrote Runic rhymes against enchantment and _ in- 
firmity, and threw them over the poor creature ; but there was 
no change for the better. 


“One could hardly believe that she was once so small as to 
lie in the calyx of a water-lily,” said the Stork-father. She 
is now quite a woman, and the image of her Egyptian mother. 
Her, alas ! we have never seen again. She did not take good 
care of herself, as thou didst expect and the learned people 
predicted. Year after year I have flown backward and for- 
ward over ‘the wild morass,’ but never have I seen a sign of 


her. Yes, I can assure thee, during the years we have been 
8 


114 © ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


coming up here, when I have arrived some days before thee, 
that I might mend the nest and set everything in order in it, 
I have for a whole night flown, as if I had been an owl ora 
bat, continually over the open water, but to no purpose. We 
have had no use either for the two swan disguises which I 
and the young ones dragged all the way up here from the 
banks of the Nile. It was hard enough work, and it took us 
three journeys to bring them up. They have now lain here 
for years at the bottom of our nest ; and should a fire by any 
chance break out, and the Viking’s castle be burned down, 
they would be lost.” 

“ And our good nest would be lost,” said the old female 
Stork ; “ but thou thinkest less of that than of these feather 
things and thy bog Princess. ‘Thou hadst better go down to 
her at once, and remain in the mire. Thou art a hard-hearted 
father to thine own: ¢#at I have said since I laid my first eggs. 
What if I or one of our young ones should get an arrow under 
our wings from that fierce, crazy brat at the Viking’s? She 
does not care what she does. This has been much longer our 
home than hers, she ought to recollect. We do not forget our 
duty ; we pay our rent every year—a feather, an egg, and a 
young one —as we ought to do. Dost thou think that when 
she is outside / can venture to go below, as in former days, or 
as I do in Egypt, where I am almost everybody’s comrade, 
not to mention that I can there even peep into the pots and 
pans without any fear? No; I sit up here and fret myself 
about her — the hussy! and I fret myself at thee too. Thou 
shouldst have left her lying in the water-lily, and there would 
have been an end of her.” 

“Thy words are much harder than thy heart,” said the 
Stork-father. “I know thee better than thou knowest thy- 
SeLth 

And then he made a hop, flapped his wings twice, stretched 
his legs out behind him, and away he flew, or rather sailed, 
without moving his wings, until he had got to some distance. 
Then he brought his wings into play ; the sun shone upon his 
white feathers ; he stretched his head and his neck forward, 
and hastened ‘on his way. 

“He is, nevertheless, still the handsomest of them all,” said 
his admiring mate ; “but I will not tell him that.” 


PHE MAKSH-KRINGS DAUGHIER. | DES 


Late that autumn the Viking returned home, bringing with 
him booty and prisoners. Among these was a young Chris- 
tian priest, one of the men who denounced the gods of the 
Northern mythology. Often about this time was the new re- 
ligion talked of in baronial halls and ladies’ bowers — the re- 
ligion that was spreading over all lands of the south, and 
which, with the holy Ansgarius,? had even reached as far as 
Hedeby. Even little Helga had heard of the pure religion of 
Christ, who, from love to mankind, had given Himself as a 
sacrifice to save them ; but with her it went in at one ear and 
out at the other, to use a common saying. ‘The word Jove 
alone seemed to have made some impression upon her, when 
she shrunk into the miserable form of a frog in the closed-up 
chamber. But the Viking’s wife had lhstened to, and felt 
herself wonderfully affected by, the rumor and the saga about 
the Son of the one only true God. 

The men, returning from their expedition, had told of the 
splendid temples of costly hewn stone raised to Him whose 
errand was love. A pair of heavy golden vessels, beautifully 
wrought out of pure gold, were brought home, and both had 
a charming, spicy perfume. They were the censers which the 
Christian priests swung before the altars, on which blood 
never flowed; but wine and the consecrated bread were 
changed into the blood and body of Him who had given 
Himself for generations yet unborn. 


1 Ansgarius was originally a monk from the monastery of New Corbie, 
in Saxony, to which several of the monks of Corbie in France had migrated 
in A. D. 822. Its abbot, Paschasius Radbert, who died in 865, was, accord- 
ing to Cardinal Bellarmine, the first fully to propagate the belief, now en- 
tertained in the Roman Catholic Church, of the corporeal presence of the 
Saviour in the sacrament. Ansgarius, who was very enthusiastic, accepted 
a mission to the North of Europe, and preached Christianity in Denmark 
and Sweden. Jutland was for some time the scene of his labors, and he 
made many converts there ; also in Sleswig, where a Christian school for 
children was established, who, on leaving it, were sent to spread Chris- 
tianity throughout the country. An archbishopric was founded by the then 
Emperor of Germany, in conformity to a plan which had been traced, 
though not carried out, by Charlemagne; and this was bestowed upon 
Ansgarius. But the church he had built was burnt by some still heathen 
Danes, who, gathering a large fleet, invaded Hamburg, which they also re- 
duced to ashes. The Emperor then constituted him Bishop of Bremen. 
— Trans. 


116 ANDERSEN’ S WONDER STORIES. 


To the deep, stone-walled cellars of the Viking’s castle 
was the young captive, the Christian priest, consigned, fet- 
tered with cords round his feet and his hands. He was as 
beautiful as Baldur to look at, said the Viking’s wife, and she 
was grieved at his fate; but young Helga wished that he 
should be hamstrung, and bound.to the tails of wild oxen. 

“Then I should let loose the dogs. Halloo! Then away 
over bogs and pools to the naked heath. Ha! that would 
be something pleasant to see — still pleasanter to follow him 
on the wild journey.” 

But the Viking would not hear of his being put to such a 
death. On the morrow, as a scoffer and denier of the high 
gods, he was to be offered up as a sacrifice to them upon the 
blood stone in the sacred grove. He was to be the first 
human sacrifice ever offered up there. 

Young Helga prayed that she might be allowed to sprinkle 
with the blood of the captive the images of the gods and the 
assembled spectators. She sharpened her gleaming knife, 
and, as one of the large, ferocious dogs, of which there were 
plenty in the court-yard, leaped over her feet, she stuck the 
knife into his side. 

“That is to prove the blade,” she exclaimed. 

And the Viking’s wife was shocked at the savage-tempered, 
evil-minded girl; and when night came, and the beauteous 
form and disposition of her daughter changed, she poured 
forth her sorrow to her in warm words, which came from the 
bottom of her heart. 

The hideous frog with the ogre head stood before her, and 
fixed its brown, sad eyes upon her, listened, and seemed to 
understand with a human being’s intellect. 

“Never, even to my husband, have I hinted at the double 
sufferings I have through you,” said the Viking’s wife. 
“There is more sorrow in my heart on your account than I 
could have believed. Great is a mother’s love. But love 
mever enters your mind. Your heart is like a lump of cold, 
hard mud. From whence did you come to my house?” 

Then the ugly shape trembled violently ; it seemed as if 
these words touched an invisible tie between the body and the 
soul — large tears started to its eyes. 


THE MARSH-KINGS DAUGHTER. LI z 


“Your time of trouble will come some day, depend on it,” 
said the Viking’s wife, “‘and dreadful will it also be for me. 
Better had it been had you been put out on the highway, and 
the chillness of the night had benumbed you until you slept 
in death ;” and the Viking’s wife wept salt tears, and went 
- angry and distressed away, passing round behind the loose 
skin partition that hung over an upper beam to divide the 
chamber. 

Alone in a corner sat the shriveled frog. She was mute, 
but after a short interval she uttered a sort of half-suppressed 
sigh. It was as if in sorrow a new life had awoke in some 
nook of her heart. She took a step forward, listened, 
advanced again, and grasping with her awkward hands the 
heavy bar that was placed across the door, she removed it 
softly, and quietly drew away the pin that was stuck in over 
the latch. She then seized the lighted lamp that stood in the 
room beyond: it seemed as if a great resolution had given 
her strength. She made her way down to the dungeon, drew 
back the iron bolt that fastened the trap-door, and slid down 
to where the prisoner was lying. He was sleeping. She 
touched him with her cold, clammy hand; and when he 
awoke, and beheld the disgusting creature, he shuddered as 
if he had seen an evil apparition. She drew her knife, sev- 
ered his bonds, and beckoned to him to follow her. 

He named holy names, made the sign of the cross, and 
when the strange shape stood without moving, he exclaimed, 
in the words of the Bible, — 

““¢ Blessed is he that considereth the poor: the Lord will 
deliver him in time of trouble.’ Who art thou? How comes 
it that, under the exterior of such an animal, there is so much 
compassionate feeling?” 

The frog beckoned to him, and led him, behind tapestry 
that concealed him, through private passages, out to the sta- 
bles, and pointed to a horse. He sprang on it, and she also 
jumped up ; and, placing herself before him, she held by the 
animal’s mane. ‘The prisoner understood her movement ; and 
at full gallop they rode, by a path he never could have one 
away to the open heath. 

He forgot her ugly form; he knew that the grace and 


118 ANDERSEN'S WONDER STORIES. 


mercy of God could be evinced even by means of hobgoblins ; 
he put up earnest prayers, and sang holy hymns. She 
trembled. Was it the power of the prayers and hymns that 
affected her thus? or was it a cold shivering at the approach 
of morning, that was about to dawn? What was it that she 
felt? She raised herself up into the air, attempted to stop 
the horse, and was on the point of leaping down; but the 
Christian priest held her fast with all his might, and chanted 
a psalm, which he ‘thought would have sufficient strength to 
overcome the influence of the witchcraft under which she was 
kept in the hideous disguise of a frog. And the horse dashed 
more wildly forward, the heavens became red, the first ray of 
the sun burst forth through the morning sky, and with that 
clear gush of light came the miraculous change — she was the 
young beauty, with the cruel, demoniacal spirit. The aston- 
ished priest held the loveliest maiden in his arms he had ever 
beheld ; but he was horror-struck, and, springing from the 
horse, he stopped it, expecting to see it also the victim of 
some fearful sorcery. Young Helga sprang at the same mo- 
ment to the ground, her short, childlike dress reaching no 
farther than her knees. Suddenly she drew her sharp knife 
from her belt, and rushed furiously upon him. 

‘Let me but reach thee — let me but reach thee, and my 
knife shall find its way to thy heart. Thou art pale in thy 
terror, beardless slave!” 

She closed with him; a severe struggle ensued, but it 
seemed as if some invincible power bestowed strength upon 
the Christian priest. He held her fast; and the old. oak- 
tree close by came to his assistance, by binding down her feet 
with its roots, which were half loosened from ‘the earth, her 
feet having slid under them. ‘There was a fountain near, and 
he splashed the clear, fresh water over her face and _ neck, 
commanding the unclean spirit to pass out of her, and signed 
her according to the Christian rites ; but the baptismal water 
had no power where the fountain of belief had not streamed 
upon the heart. 

Yet still he was the victor. Yes, more than human strength 
could have accomplished against the powers of evil, lay in 
his acts, which, as it were, overpowered her. She suffered 


THE MARSH-KING S DAUGHTER.  , | i ee) 


her arms to sink, and gazed with wondering looks and 
blanched cheeks upon the man, whom she deemed some 
mighty wizard, strong in sorcery and the black art. These 
_ were mystic Runes he had recited, and magic characters he 
had traced in the air. Not for the glancing axe or the well- 
sharpened knife, if he had brandished these before her eyes, 
would they have blinked, or would she have winced ; but she 
winced now when he made the sign of the cross upon her 
brow ands bosom, and she stood now like a tame bird, her 
head bowed down upon her breast. 

Then he spoke kindly to her of the work of mercy she had 
performed towards him that night, when, in the ugly disguise 
of a frog, she had come to him, had loosened his bonds, and 
brought him forth to light and life. She also was bound — 
bound even with stronger fetters than he had been, he said ; 
but she also should be set free, and like him, attain to light 
and life. He would take her to Hedeby, to the holy Ansga- 
rius. ‘There, in the Christian city, the witchcraft in which she 
was held would be exorcised ; but not before him must she 
sit on horseback, even if she wished it herself —he dared 
not place her there. | 

“Thou must sit behind me on the horse, not before me. 
Thine enchanting beauty has a magic power bestowed by the 
evil one. I fear it ; and yet the victory shall be mine through 
Christ.” 

He knelt down and prayed fervently. It seemed as if-the 
surrounding wood had been consecrated into a holy temple ; 
the birds began to sing as if they belonged to the new con- 
eregation’; the wild thyme sent forth its fragrant scent, as if 
to take the place of incense; while the Priest proclaimed 
these Bible words: “To give light to them that sit in dark- 
ness, and in the shadow of death; to guide our feet into the 
way of peace.” 

And he spoke of everlasting life ; and as he discoursed, the 
horse which had carried them in their wild flight stood still, 
and pulled at the large bramble-berries, so that the ripest 
ones fell on little Helga’s hand, inviting her to pluck them 
for herself. 

She allowed herself patiently to be lifted upon the horse, 


I20 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


and she sat on its back like a somnambulist, who was neither 


in a waking nor a sleeping state. The Christian priest tied two ° 


small green branches together in the form of a cross, which 
he held high aloft ; and thus they rode through the forest, 
which became thicker and thicker, and the path, if path it 
could be called, taking them further into it. The blackthorn 
stood as if to bar their way, and they had to ride round out- 
side of it; the trickling streams swelled no longer into mere 
rivulets, but into stagnant pools, and they had to ride round 
them ; but as the soft wind that played among the foliage of 
the trees was refreshing and strengthening to the travellers, so 
the mild words that were spoken in Christian charity and 
truth served to lead the benighted one to light and life. 

It is said that a constant dripping of water will make a 
hollow in the hardest stone, and that the waves of the sea 
will, in time, round the edges of the sharpest rocks. The dew 
of grace which fell for little Helga, softened the hard, and 
smoothed the sharp, in her nature. True, it was not discern- 
ible yet in her, nor was she aware of it herself. What knows 
the seed in the ground of the effect which the refreshing dew 
and the warm sunbeams are to have in producing from it 
vegetation and flowers? 

As a mother’s song to her child, unmarked, makes an im- 
pression upon its infant mind, and it prattles after her several 
of the words without understanding them, but in time these 
words arrange themselves into order, and they become clearer, 
so in the case of Helga worked that word which is mighty to 
save. 

They rode out of the forest, and crossed an open heath ; 
then again they entered a pathless wood, where, towards 
evening, they encountered a band of robbers. 

“Whence didst thou steal that beautiful wench?” they 
shouted, as they stopped the horse, and dragged its two riders 
down ; for they were strong and robust men. The Priest had 
no other weapon than the knife which he had taken from 
little Helga. With that he now stood on his defense. One 
of the robbers swung his ponderous axe, but the young Chris- 
tian fortunately sprang aside in time to avoid the blow, which 
then fell on the luckless horse, and the sharp edge entered 


a 


THE MARSH- KINGS DAUGHTER. FQ) 


mto its neck ; blood streamed from the wound, and the poor 
animal fell to the ground. Helga, who had only at that 
moment awoke from her long, deep trance, sprang forward, 
and cast herself over the gasping creature. The Christian 
priest placed himself before her as a shield and protection 
from the lawless men ; but one of them struck him on the 
forehead with an iron hammer, so that it was dashed in, and 
the blood and brains gushed forth, while he fell down dead 
on the spot. 

The robbers seized Helga by her white arms ; but at that 
moment the sun went down, its last beam faded away, and 
she was transformed into a. hideous-looking frog. The pale 
ereen mouth stretched itself over half the face; its arms 
became thin and slimy; and a broad hand, with webbed-like 
membranes, extended itself like a fan. Then the robbers 
withdrew their hold of her in terror and astonishment. She 
stood like the ugly animal among them, and, according to 
the nature of a frog, she began to hop about, and, jumping 
faster than usual, she soon escaped into the depths of the 
thicket. The robbers were then convinced that it was some 
evil artifice of the mischief-loving Loke, or else some secret 
magical deception ; and in dismay they fled from the place. 


The full moon had risen, and its silver light penetrated even 
the gloomy recesses of the forest, when from among the low, 
thick brushwood, in the frog’s hideous form, crept the young 
Helga. She stopped when she reached the bodies of the 
Christian priest and the slaughtered horse ; she gazed on them 
with eyes that seemed full of tears, and the frog uttered a 
sound that somewhat resembled the sob of a child who was on 
the point of crying. She threw herself first over the one, then 
over the other ; then took water up in her webbed hand, and 
poured it over them; but all was in vain — they were dead, 
and dead they would remain: She knew that. Wild beasts 
would soon come and devour their bodies. No, that must not 
be ; therefore she determined to dig a grave in the ground for 
them, but she had nothing to dig it with except the branch of 
a tree and both her own hands. With these she worked away 
until her fingers bled. She found she made so little progress, 


ki22 ANDERSEN'S WONDER STORIES. 


that she feared the work would never be completed. Then 
she took water, and washed the dead man’s face ; covered it 
with fresh green leaves ; brought large boughs of the trees, 
and laid them over him; sprinkled dead leaves amongst the 
branches ; fetched the largest stones she could carry, and 
placed them over the bodies, and filled up the openings with 
moss. When she had done all this she thought that their 
tomb might be strong and safe ; but during her long and ar- 
duous labor the night had passed away. The sun arose, and 
young Helga stood again in all her beauty, with bloody hands, 
and, for the first time, with tears on her blooming cheeks. 

During this change it seemed as if two natures were wrest- 
ling within her; she trembled, looked around her as if awak- 
ening from a painful dream, then seized upon the slender 
branch of a tree near, and held fast by it as if for support ; 
and in another moment she climbed like a cat up to the top of 
the tree, and placed herself firmly there. For a whole long 
day she sat there like a frigntened squirrel in the deep loneli- 
ness of the forest, where all is still and dead, people say. 
Dead! There flew by butterflies chasing each other, either 
in sport or in strife. ‘There were ant-hills near, each covered 
with hundreds of little busy laborers, passing in swarms to 
and fro. In the air danced innumerable gnats ; crowds of 
buzzing flies swept past ; lady-birds, dragon-flies, and other 
winged insects, floated hither and thither ; earth-worms crept 
forth from the damp ground ; moles crawled about ; otherwise 
it was still — dead, as people say and think. 

None remarked Helga, except the jays that flew screeching 
to the top of the tree where she sat; they hopped on the 
branches around her with impudent curiosity, but there was 
something in the glance of her eye that speedily drove them 
away ; they were none the wiser about her, nor, indeed, was 
she about herself. When the evening approached, and the 
sun began to sink, the transformation time rendered a change 
of position necessary. She slipped down the tree, and, as the 
last ray of the sun faded away, she was again the shriveled 
frog, with the webbed-fingered hands; but her eyes beamed 
now with a charming expression, which they had not worn in 
the beautiful form; they were the mildest, sweetest girlish 


SS 


THE MARSH-KING’S DAUGHTER. 123 


eyes that glanced from behind the mask of a frog — they bore 
witness to the deeply thinking human mind, the deeply feeling 
human heart; and these lovely eyes burst into tears, — tears 
of unfeigned sorrow. 

Close to the lately raised grave lay the cross of green 
boughs that had been tied together —the last work of him 
who was now dead and gone. Helga took it up, and the 
thought presented itself to her that it would be well to place 
it amidst the stones, above him and the slaughtered horse. 
With the sad remembrances thus awakened, her tears flowed 
faster ; and in the fullness of her heart she scratched the same 
sign in the earth round the grave —it would be a fence that 
would guard it so well. And just as she was forming, with 
_ both of her hands, the figure of the cross, her magic disguise 
fell off like a torn glove ; and when she had washed herself in 
the clear water of the fountain near, and in amazement looked 
at her delicate white hands, she made the sign of the cross 
between herself and the dead Priest; then her lips moved, 
then her tongue was loosened ; and that name which so often, 
during the ride through the forest, she had heard spoken and 
chanted, became audible from her mouth—she exclaimed, 
PolisUs CHRIST |”? 

When the frog’s skin had fallen off she was again the beau- 
tiful maiden ; but her head drooped heavily, her limbs seemed 
to need repose — she slept. 

Her sleep was only a short one, however ; she awoke about 
midnight, and before her stood the dead horse full of life ; its 
eyes glittered, and light seemed to proceed from the wound 
in its neck. Close to it the dead Christian priest showed 
himself — “more beautiful than Baldur,” the Viking’s wife 
would have said ; and yet he came as a flash of fire. 

There was an earnestness in his large, mild eyes, a search- 
ing, penetrating look — grave, almost stern — that thrilled the 
young proselyte to the utmost depths of her heart. Helga 
trembled before him ; and her memory awoke as if with the 
power it would exercise on the great day of doom. All the 
kindness that had been bestowed on her, every affectionate 
word that had been said to her, came back to her mind with 
an impression deeper than they had ever before made. She 


eA ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


understood that it was love that, during the days of trial here, 
had supported her — those days of trial in which the offspring 
of a being with a soul, and a form of mud, had writhed and 
struggled. She understood that she had only followed the 
promptings of her own disposition, and had done nothing to 
help herself. All had been bestowed on her— all had been 
ordained for her. She bowed herself in lowly humility and 
shame before Him who must be able to read every thought 
of the heart; and at that moment she felt as if a purify- 
ing flame darted through her — a light from the Holy Spirit. 

“Daughter of the dust!” said the Christian priest, “ from 
dust, from earth hast thou arisen— from earth shalt thou 
again arise! A ray from God’s invisible sun shall stream on 
thee. No soul shall be lost. But far off is the time when life | 
takes flight into eternity. I come from the land of the dead. 
Thou also shalt once pass through the dark valley into yon 
lofty realms of brightness, where grace and perfection dwell. 
I shall not guide thee now to Hedeby for Christian baptism. 
First must thou disperse the slimy surface over the deep 
morass, draw up the living root of thy life and thy cradle, and 
perform thy appointed task, ere thou darest to seek the holy 
Tite 

And he lifted her up on the horse, and gave her a golden 
censer like those she had formerly seen at the Viking’s castle ; 
and strong was the perfume which issued from it. The open 
wound on the forehead of the murdered man shone like a dia- 
dem of brilliants. He took the cross from the grave, and 
raised it high above him; then away they went through the 
air, away over the rustling woods, away over the mountains 
where the giant heroes are buried, sitting on the slaughtered 
steed. Still onward the phantom forms pursued their way ; 
and in the clear moonlight glittered the gold circlet round 
their brows, and the mantle fluttered in the breeze. The 
magic dragon, who was watching over his treasures, raised his 
head and gazed at them. The hill dwarfs peeped out from 
their mountain recesses and plough-furrows. There were 
swarms of them, with red, blue, and green lights, that looked 
like the numerous sparks in the ashes of newly-burned paper. 

Away over forest and heath, over limpid streams and stag- 


THE MARSH-KING’S DAUGHTER. 125 


nant pools, they hastened towards “the wild morass,” and 
over it they flew in wide circles. The Christian priest held 
aloft the cross, which looked as dazzling as burnished gold, 
and as he did so he chanted the mass hymns. Little Helga 
sang with him as a child follows its mother’s song. She 
swung the censer about as if before the altar, and there came 
a perfume so strong, so powerful in its effect, that it caused 
the reeds and sedges to blossom ; every sprout shot up from 
the deep bottom; everything that had life raised itself up; 
and with the rest arose a mass of water-lilies, which looked 
like a carpet of embroidered flowers. Upon it lay a sleeping 
female, young and beautiful. Helga thought she beheld her- 
self mirrored in the calm water ; but it was her mother whom . 
she saw—the Marsh-king’s wife—the Princess from the 
banks of the Nile. 

The dead Christian priest prayed that the sleeper might be 
lifted upon the horse. At first the latter sank under the addi- 
tional burden, as if its body were but a winding-sheet flut- 
tering in the wind; but the sign of the cross gave strength 
to the airy phantom, and all three rode on it to the solid 
ground. 

Then crowed the cock at the Viking’s castle, and the appa- 
ritions seemed to disappear in a mist, which was wafted away 
by the wind ; but the mother and daughter stood together. 

“Is that myself I behold in the deep water?” exclaimed 
the mother. | 

‘““Is that myself I see on the shining surface?” said the 
daughter. 

_ And they approached each other till form.met form ina 
warm embrace, and wildly the mother 3 heart beat when she 
perceived the truth. 

“My child! my heart’s own flower! my lotus from the 
watery deep!” 

And she encircled her daughter with her arm, and wept. 
Her tears caused a new sensation to Helga — they were the 
‘baptism of love for her. | 

“T came hither in the magic disguise of a swan, and I 
threw it off,” said the mother. “I sank through the swaying 
mire deep into the mud of the morass, which like a wall 


126 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


closed around me; but soon I perceived that I was in a 
fresher stream — some power drew me deeper and still deeper 
down. I felt my eyelids heavy with sleep ; I slumbered and 
I dreamed. I thought that I was again in the interior of the 
Egyptian pyramid, but before me still stood the heaving alder- 
trunk that had so terrified me on the surface of the morass. 


I saw the cracks in the bark, and they changed their appear- 


ance, and became hieroglyphics. It was the mummy’s coffin 
I was looking at; it burst open, and out issued from it the 
monarch of a thousand years ago —the mummy form, black 
as pitch, dark and shining as a wood-snail, or as that thick, 
slimy mud. It was the Marsh-king, or the mummy of the 
pyramids ; I knew not which. He threw his arms around me, 


and I felt as if I were dying. I only felt that I was alive 


again when I found something warm on my breast, and there 
a little bird was flapping with its wings, twittering and sing- 
ing. It flew from my breast high up in the dark, heavy 
space ; but a long green string bound it still to me. I heard 
and I comprehended its tones and its longing: ‘Freedom! 
Sunshine! To the father!’ Then I thought of my father in 
my distant home, that dear, sunny land — my life, my affection 
—and I loosened the cord, and let it flutter away home to my 
father. Since that hour I have not dreamed. I have slept a 
long, dark, heavy sleep until now, when the strange sounds 
and perfume awoke me and set me free.” 

That green tie between the mother’s heart and the bird’s 
wings, where now did it flutter? what now had become of it? 
The Stork alone had seen it. The cord was the green stem ; 
the knot was the shining flower—the cradle for that child 
who ‘now had grown up in beauty, and again rested near her 
mother’s heart. 

And as they stood there embracing each other, the Stork- 
father flew in circles round them, hastened back to his nest, 
took from it the magic feather disguises that had been hidden 
away for so many years, cast one down before each of them, 
and then joined them as they raised themselves from the 
ground like two white swans. 


“Let us now have some chat,” said the Stork-father ; “now _ 


we understand each other’s language, even though one bird’s 


> a 
a aS 


THE MARSH-KINGS DAUGHTER. 127 


beak is not exactly made after the pattern of another’s. Itis 
most fortunate that you came to-night ; to-morrow we should 
all have been away — the mother, the young ones, and myself. 
We are off to the south. Look at me! I am an old friend 
from the country where the Nile flows, and so is the mother, 
though there is more kindness in her heart than in her tongue. 
She always believed that the Princess would make her escape. 
The young ones and I brought these swan garbs up here 
Well, how glad I am, and how fortunate it is that I am here 
still! At dawn of day we shall take our departure —a large 
party of storks. We shall fly foremost, and if you will follow 
us you will not miss the way. The young ones and myself 
will have an eye to you.” 

“And the lotus flower I was to have brought,” said the 
Egyptian Princess ; “it shall go within the swan disguise, by 
my side, and I shall have my heart’s darling with me. Then 
homewards — homewards !” 

Then Helga said that she could not leave the Danish land 
until she had once more seen her foster-mother, the Viking’s 
excellent wife. To Helga’s thoughts arose every pleasing 
recollection, every kind word, even every tear her adopted 
mother had shed on her account ; and, at that moment, she 
felt that she almost loved that mother best. 

“Yes, we must go to the Viking’s castle,” said the Stork ; 
“there my young ones and their mother await me. How they 
will stare! ‘The mother does not speak much ; but, though 
she is rather abrupt, she means well. I will presently make 
a little noise, that she may know we are coming.” 

And he clattered with his bill as he and the swans flew 
close to the Viking’s castle. 

Within it all were lying in deep sleep. The Viking’s wife 
had retired late to rest ; she lay in anxious thought about 
little Helga, who now for full three days and nights had dis- 
appeared along with the Christian priest: she had probably 
assisted him in his escape, for it was her horse that was miss- 
ing from the stables. By-what power had all this been accom- 
plished? The Viking’s wife thought upon the wondrous 
works she had heard had been performed by the immaculate 
Christ, and by those who believed on him and followed him. 


128 ANDERSEN'S WONDER STORIES. 


Her changing thoughts assumed the shapes of life in her 
dreams ; she fancied she was still awake, lost in deep reflec- 
tion ; she imagined that a storm arose — that she heard the 
sea roaring in the east and in the west, the waves dashing 
from the Kattegat and the North Sea; the hideous serpents 
which encircled the earth in the depths of the ocean strug- 
gling in deadly combat. It was the night of the gods — Rac- 
NAROK, as the heathens called the last hour, when all should 
be changed, even the high gods themselves. ‘The rever- 
berating horn sounded, and forth over the rainbow? rode the 
gods, clad in steel, to fight the final battle ; before them flew 
the winged Valkyries, and the rear was brought up by the 
shades of the dead giant-warriors ; the whole atmosphere was 
illuminated around them by the Northern lights, but darkness 
conquered all — it was an awful hour ! 

And near the terrified Viking’s wife sat upon the floor 
little Helga in the ugly disguise of the frog ; and she shivered 
and worked her way up to her foster-mother, who took her 
in her lap, and, disgusting as she was in that form, lovingly 
caressed her. The air was filled with the sounds of the clash- 
ing of swords, the blows of clubs, the whizzing of arrows, like 
a violent hail-storm. The time was come when heaven and 
earth should be destroyed, the stars should fall, and all be 
swallowed up below in Surtur’s fire; but a new earth and a 
new heaven she knew were to come ; the corn was to wave 
where the sea now rolled over the golden sands ; the un- 
known God at length reigned ; and to him ascended Baldur, 
the mild, the lovable, released from the kingdom of death. 
He came; the Viking’s wife beheld him; she recognized 
his countenance: it was that of the captive Christian priest. 
“Tmmaculate Christ!” she cried aloud; and whilst uttering 
this holy name, she impressed a kiss upon the ugly brow of 
the frog-child. Then fell the magic disguise, and Helga 
stood before her in all her radiant beauty, gentle as she had 
never looked before, and with speaking eyes. She kissed 
her foster-mother’s hands, blessed her for all the care and 
kindness which she, in the days of distress and trial, had 


1 The Bridge of Heaven in the fables of the Scandinavian mythology. 
17 aRS. 


PELE: MARSH-KING’S DAUGHTER. 129 


lavished upon her ; thanked her for the thoughts with which 
she had inspired her mind ; thanked her for mentioning ‘hat 
name which she now repeated, “Immaculate Christ!” and 
then lifting herself up in the suddenly adopted shape of a 
graceful swan, little Helga spread her wings widely out with 
the rustling sound of a flock of birds of passage on the wing, 
and in another moment she was gone. , 

The Viking’s wife awoke, and on the outside of her case- 
ment were to be heard’ the same rustling and flapping of 
wings. It was the time, she knew, when the storks generally 
took their departure ; it was them she heard. She wished 
to see them once more before their journey to the south, and 
bid them farewell She got up, went out on the balcony, 
and then she saw, on the roof of an adjoining outhouse, stork 
upon. stork, while all around the place, above the highest 
trees, flew crowds of them, wheeling in large circles ; but 
below, on the brink of the well, where little Helga had but 
so lately often sat, and frightened her with her wild actions, 
sat now two swans, looking up at ‘her with expressive eyes ; 
and she remembered her dream, which seemed to her almost 
a reality. She thought of Helga in the appearance of a swan; 
she thought of the Christian priest, and felt a strange glad- 
ness in her heart. 

The swans fluttered their wings and bowed their necks, as 
if they were saluting her ; and the Viking’s wife opened her 
arms, as if she understood them, and smiled amidst her tears 
and manifold thoughts. 

Then, with a clattering of bills and a noise of wings, the 
storks all turned towards the south to commence their long 
journey. 

“We will not wait any longer for the swans,” said the Stork- 
mother. “If they choose to go with us, they must come at 
once ; we cannot be lingering here till the plovers begin their 
flight. It is pleasant to travel as we do in a family party, | 
not like the chaffinches and strutting cocks. Among their 
species the males fly by themselves, and the females by them- 
selves : that, to say the least of it, is not at all seemly. What 
a miserable sound the stroke of the swans’ wings has, com- 
pared with ours!” 

9 


130 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


“Every one flies in his own way,” said the Stork-father. 
“ Swans fly slantingly, cranes in triangles, and plovers in ser- 
pentine windings.” 

‘‘Name not serpents or snakes when we are about to fly 
up yonder,” said the Stork-mother. “It will only make the 
young ones long for a sort of food which they can’t get just 
now.” 

“Are these the high hills, beneath yonder, of which I have 
heard?” asked Helga, in the disguise of a swan. 

“These are thunder-clouds driving under us,” replied her 
mother. 

“What are these white clouds that seem so stationary?” 
asked Helga. 

“These are the mountains covered with everlasting snow 
that thou seest,”’ said her mother; and they flew over the 
Alps toward the blue Mediterranean. 


“There is Africa! there is Egypt!” cried, in joyful accents, 
under her swan disguise, the daughter of the Nile, as high up 
in the air she descried, like a whitish-yellow, billow-shaped 
streak, her native soil. 

The storks also saw it, and quickened their flight. 

“¢T smell the mud of the Nile and the wet frogs,” exclaimed 
the Stork-mother. “It makes my mouth water. Yes, now ye 
shall have nice things to eat, and ye shall see the marabout, 
the ibis, and the crane: they are all related to our family, but 
are not nearly so handsome as we are. They think a great 
deal, however, of themselves, particularly the ibis: he has 
been spoiled by the Egyptians, who make a mummy of him, 
and stuff him with aromatic herbs. I would rather be stuffed 
with living frogs ; and that is what ye would all like also, and 
what ye shall be. Better a good dinner when one is living, 
than to be made a grand show of when one is dead. That is 
what I think, and I know I am right.” 

“The storks have returned,” was told in the splendid house 
on the banks of the Nile, where, within the open hall, upon 
soft cushions, covered with a leopard’s skin, the King lay, 
neither living nor dead, hoping for the lotus flower from the 
deep morass of the north. His kindred and his attendants 
were standing around him. 


THE MARSH-KING’S DAUGHTER. 131 


And into the hall flew two magnificent white swans — they 
had arrived with the storks. They cast off the dazzling 
magic feather garbs, and there stood two beautiful women, as 
like each other as two drops of water. ‘They leaned over the 
pallid, faded old man ; they threw back their long hair ; and, 
as little Helga bowed over her grandfather, his cheeks flushed, 
his eyes sparkled, life returned to his stiffened limbs. The 
old man rose hale and hearty; his daughter and his grand- 
daughter pressed him in their arms, as if in a glad morning 
salutation after a long, heavy dream. 


And there was joey throughout the palace, and in the Storks’ 
nest also ; but ¢#ere the joy was principally for the good food, 
the swarms of nice frogs ; and whilst the learned noted down 
in haste, and very carelessly, the history of the two princesses 
and of the lotus flower as an important event, and a blessing 
to the royal house, and to the country in general, the old 
Storks related the history in their own way to their own fam- 
ily ; but not until they had all eaten enough, else these would 
have had other things to think of than listening to any story. 

“Now thou wilt be somebody,” whispered the Stork-mother ; 

“it is only reasonable to expect that.” 

“OQ! what should 7 be?” said the Stork-father. “And 
what have done? Nothing!” 

“Thou hast done more than all the others put together. 
Without thee and the young ones the two princesses would 
never have seen Egypt again, or cured the old man. Thou 
wilt be nothing! ‘Thou shouldst, at the very least, be ap- 
pointed court doctor, and have a title bestowed on thee, which 
our young ones would inherit, and their little ones after them. 
Z eee dost look already exactly like an Besse doctor in my 
eves.” 

The learned and the wise lectured upon “the fundamental 
notion,” as they called it, which pervaded the whole tissue of 
events. “Love bestows life.” Then they expounded their 
meaning in this manner : — 

“The warm sunbeam was the Egyptian Princess; she 

descended to the Marsh-king, and from their meeting sprang 
a flower ” — 


I 32 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


“TI cannot exactly repeat the words,” said the Stork-father, 
who had been listening to the discussion from the roof, and 
was now telling in his nest what he had heard. “What they 
said was not easy of comprehension, but it was so exceedingly 
wise that they were immediately rewarded with rank and 
marks of distinction. Even the Prince’s head cook got a 
handsome present — that was, doubtless, for having prepared 
the repast.” 

“And what didst thou get?” asked the Stork-mother. 
“They had no right to overlook the most important actor in 
the affair, and that was thyself. The learned only babbled 
about the matter. But so it is always.” 

Late at night, when the now happy household reposed in 
peaceful slumbers, there was one who was still awake ; and 
that was not the Stork-father, although he was standing upon 
his nest on one leg, and dozing like a sentry. No; little 
Helga was awake, leaning over the balcony, and gazing 
through the clear air at the large blazing stars, larger and 
brighter than she had ever seen them in the north, and yet 
the same. She was. thinking upon the Viking’s wife near 
“the wild morass ;” upon her foster-mother’s mild eyes ; 
upon the tears she had shed over the poor frog-child, who was 

now standing under the light of the glorious stars, on the 
banks of the Nile, in the soft spring air. She thought of the 


love in the heathen woman’s breast — the love she had shown: 


towards an unfortunate being, who, in human form, was as 
vicious as a wild beast, and in the form of a noxious animal 
was horrible to look upon or to touch. She gazed at the glit- 
tering stars, and thought of the shining circle on the brow of 
the dead Priest, when they flew over the forest and the morass. 
Tones seemed again to sound on her ears— words she had 
heard spoken when they rode together, and she sat like an 
evil spirit there — words about the great Source of love, the 
highest love, that which included all races and all genera- 
tions. Yes, what was not bestowed, won, obtained? Helga’s 
thoughts embraced by day, by night, the whole of her good 
fortune ; she stood contemplating it like a child who turns 
precipitately from the giver to the beautiful gifts ; she passed 
on to the increasing happiness which might come, and would 


ee ee 


THE MARSH-KINGS DAUGHTER. 133 


come. Higher and higher rose her thoughts, till she so lost 
herself in the dreams of future bliss that she forgot the Giver 
of all good. It was the superabundance of youthful. spirits 
which caused her imagination to take so bold a flight. Her 
eyes were flashing with her thoughts, when suddenly a loud 
noise in the court beneath recalled her to mundane objects. 
She saw there two enormous ostriches running angrily round 
in a narrow circle. She had never before seen these large, 
heavy birds, who looked as if their wings were clipped; and 
when she asked what had happened to them, she heard for 
the first time the Egyptian legend about the ostrich. 

Its race had once been beautiful, its wings broad and 
strong. ‘Then one evening the largest forest birds said to it, - 
* Brother, shall we fly to-morrow, God willing, to the river and 
drink?” And the Ostrich answered, ‘“ Yes, I will.” At dawn 
they flew away, first up toward the sun, higher and _ higher, 
the Ostrich far before the others. It flew on in its pride up 
toward the light ; it relied upon its own strength, not upon the 
Giver of that strength ; it did not say, ‘God willing.” Then 
the avenging angel drew aside the veil from the streaming 
flames, and in that moment the bird’s wings were burnt, and 
he sank in wretchedness to the earth. Neither he nor his 
species were ever afterwards able to raise themselves up in the 
air. They fly timidly — hurry along in a narrow space ; they 
are a warning to mankind in all our thoughts and all our en- 
terprises to say, “God willing.” 

And Helga humbly bowed her head, looked at the ostriches 
rushing past, saw their surprise and their simple joy at the 
sight of their own large shadows on the white wall, and more 
serious thoughts took possession of her mind, adding to her 
present happiness — inspiring brighter hopes for the future. 
What was yet to happen? The best for her, “God willing.” 


In the early spring, when the storks were about to go north 
again, Helga took from her arm a golden bracelet, scratched 
her name upon it, beckoned to the Stork-father, hung the gold 
band round his neck, and bade him carry it to the Viking’s 
wife, who would thereby know that her adopted daughter 
lived, was happy, and remembered her. 


134 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


“Tt isgheavy to carry,” thought the Stork, when it was hung 
round his neck ; “ but gold and honor must not be flung away 
upon the high road. The stork brings luck —they must 
admit that up yonder.” 

“ Thou layest gold, and I lay eggs,” said the Stork-mother ; 
“but thou layest only once, and I lay every year. But neither 
of us gets any thanks, which is very vexatious.” 

“One knows, however, that one has done one’s duty,” said 
the Stork-father. 

“ But that can’t be hung up to be seen and lauded ; and if 
it could be, fine words butter no parsnips.” 

So they flew away. 

The little nightingale that sang upon the tamarind-tree 
would also soon be going north, up yonder near “ the wild 
morass.” Helga had often heard it— she would send a mes- 
sage by it ; for, since she had flown in the magical disguise of 
the swan, she had often spoken to the storks and the swallows. 
The nightingale would therefore understand her, and she 
prayed it to fly to the beech-wood upon the Jutland peninsula, 
where the tomb of stone and branches. had been erected. She 
asked it to beg all the little birds to protect the sacred spot, 
and frequently to sing over it. 

And the nightingale flew away, and time flew also. 


And the eagle stood upon a pyramid, and looked in the au- 
tumn on a stately procession with richly laden camels, with 
armed and splendidly equipped men on snorting Arabian 
horses shining white like silver, with red trembling nostrils, 
with long thick manes hanging down to their slender legs. 
Rich guests — a royal Arabian Prince, handsome as a prince 
should be — approached the gorgeous palace where the storks’ 
nests stood empty. Those who dwelt in these nests were away 
in the far north, but they were soon to return ; and they ar- 
rived on the very day that was most marked by joy and festiv- 
ities. It was a wedding feast ; and the beautiful Helga, clad 
in silk and jewels, was the bride. The bridegroom was the 
young Prince from Arabia. ‘They sat at the upper end of the 
table, between her mother and grandfather. 

But she looked not at the bridegroom’s bronzed and manly 


THE MARSH-KING’S DAUGHTER. 135 


cheek, where the dark beard curled. She looked not at his 
black eyes, so full of fire, that were fastened upon her. She 
gazed outwards upon the bright, twinkling stars that glittered 
in the heavens. 

Then a loud rustling of strong wings was heard in the air. 
The storks had come back ; and the old pair, fatigued as they 
were after their journey, and much in need of rest, flew im- 
mediately down to the rails of the veranda, for they knew 
what festival was going on. They had heard already at the 
frontiers that Helga had them painted upon the wall, intro- 
ducing them into her own history. 

“Tt was a kind thought of hers,” said the Stork-father. 

“Tt is very little,” said the Stork-mother. “She could hardly 
have done less.” 

And when Helga saw them she rose, and went out into the 
veranda to stroke their backs. The old couple bowed their 
necks, and the youngest little ones felt themselves much hon- 
ored by being so well received. 

And Helga looked up towards the shining stars, that glit- 
tered more and more brilliantly ; and between them and her 
she beheld in the air a transparent form. It floated nearer to 
her. It was the dead Christian priest, who had also come to 
her bridal solemnity — come from the kingdom of heaven. 

“The glory and beauty up yonder far exceed all that is 
known on earth,” he said. 

And Helga pleaded softly, earnestly, that but for one mo- 
ment she might be allowed to ascend up thither, and to cast 
one single glance on those heavenly scenes. 

Then he raised her amidst splendor and magnificence, and 
a stream of delicious music. It was not around her only that 
all seemed to be brightness and music, but the light seemed 
to stream in her soul, and the sweet tones to be echoed there. 
Words cannot describe what she felt. 

“We must now return,” he said ; ‘ thou wilt be missed.” 

“ Only one more glance!” she entreated. “Only one short 
minute !” 

“We must return to earth — the guests are all departing.’ 

“But one more glance — the last!” 

And Helga stood again in the veranda, but all the torches 


b 


136 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


outside were extinguished ; all the light in the bridal saloon 
was gone; the Storks were gone; no guests were to be seen 
—no bridegroom. All had vanished in these three short 
minutes. 

Then Helga felt anxious. She wandered through the vast 
empty halls — there slept foreign soldiers. She opened the 
side door which led to her own chambers, and, as she fancied 
she was entering them, she found herself in the garden: it 
had not stood there. Red streaks crossed the skies ; it was 
the dawn of day. . 

Only three minutes in heaven, and a whole night on earth 
had passed away. > 

Then she perceived the Storks. She called to them, spoke 
their language, and the old Stork turned his head toward her, 
and listened, and drew near. 

“Thou dost speak our language,” said he. ‘ What wouldst 
thou? Whence comest thou, thou foreign maiden ?” 

“Tt is I—it is Helga! Dost thou not know me? Three 
minutes ago we were talking together in the veranda.” 

“That is a mistake,” said the Stork. “Thou must have 
_ dreamt this.” 

“No, no,” she said, and reminded him of the Viking’s cas- 
tle, “the wild morass,” the journey thence. 

Then the old Stork winked with his eyes. 

“That is a very old story ; I have heard it from my great- 
great-grandmother’s time. Yes, truly, there was once in Egypt 
a Princess from the Danish land ; but she disappeared on the 
evening of her wedding, many hundred years ago, and was 
never seen again. Thou canst read that thyself upon the 
monument in the garden, upon which are sculptured both 
swans and storks, and above ‘it stands one like thyself in the 
white marble.” | 

And so it was. Helga saw, comprehended it all, and sank 
on her knees. 

The sun burst forth in all its morning splendor, and as, in 
former days, with its first rays fell the frog disguise, and the 
lovely form became visible: so now, in the baptism of light, 


arose a form of celestial beauty, purer than the air, as if ina 


a a 


THE MARSH-KINGS DAUGHTER. 137 


' veil of radiance to the Father above. The body sank into 
dust, and where she had stood lay a faded lotus flower ! 


“Well, this is a new ending to the story,” said the Stork- 
father, “which I by no means expected ; but I am pleased 
with it.” 

“What will the young ones say to it?”’ wondered the Stork- 
mother. 


“Ah! that, indeed, is of the most consequence,” said the 
Stork-father. 


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OLE SHU-T-EYE. 


N the whole world there is nobody who knows so many 

stories as Ole Shut-Eye ; he can teli capital ones ! 

As evening comes on, when the children still sit nicely at 
table or on their stools, then comes Ole Shut-Eye. He comes 
up the stairs quite sofily, for he walks in his stocking feet ; he 
opens the door noiselessly, and st! he syringes sweet milk in 
the children’s eyes, a. small, small stream, but enough to pre- 
vent them from keeping their eyes open; and thus they can- 
not see him. He creeps just among them, and blows softly 
upon their necks, and this makes their heads heavy. O yes, 
but it doesn’t hurt them, for Ole Shut-Eye is very fond of the 
children ; he only wants them to be quiet, and that they are 
not until they are taken to bed: they are to be quiet that he 
may tell them stories. 

When the children sleep, Ole Shut- Eye sits down upon 
their bed. He is well dressed: his coat is of silk, but it is 
impossible to say of what color, for it shines red, green, and 
blue, according as he turns. Under each arm he carries an 
umbrella: the one with pictures on it he spreads over the 
good children, and then they dream all night the most glorious 
stories ; but on his other umbrella nothing at all is painted, 


i ES 
ta 
ree ws: 


OLE SHUT-EVE. 130 


and this he spreads over the naughty children, and these 
sleep in a dull way, and when they awake in the morning they 
have not dreamed of anything. 

Now we shall hear how Ole Shut-Eye, every evening through 
one whole week, came to a little boy named Hjalmar, and 
what he told him. ‘There are seven stories, for there are 
seven days in the week. 


MONDAY. 


“Listen,” said Ole Shut-Eye in the evening, when he had 
put Hjalmar to bed; “now I'll clear up.” 

And all the flowers in the flower-pots became great trees, 
stretching out their long branches under the ceiling of the 
room and along the walls, so that the whole room looked like 
a beauteous bower ; and all the twigs were covered with flow- 
ers, and each flower was more beautiful than a rose, and smelt 
so sweet that one wanted to eat it; it was sweeter than jam. 
The fruit gleamed like gold, and there were cakes bursting 
with raisins. It was.splendid. But at the same time a ter- 
rible wail sounded from the table-drawer, where Hjalmar’s 
school-book lay. 

‘““Whatever can that be?” said Ole Shut-Eye ; and he went 
to the table, and opened the drawer. It was the slate which 


140 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


was suffering from convulsions, for a wrong number had got 
into the sum, so that it was nearly falling in pieces ; the slate 


pencil tugged and jumped at its string, as if it had been a lit- _ 


tle dog who wanted to help the sum ; but he could not. And 
thus there was a great lamentation in Hjalmar’s copy-book ; 
it was quite terrible to hear. On each page the great letters 


stood in a row, one underneath the other, and each with-a ~ 


little one at its side; that was the copy; and next to these 
were a few more letters which thought they looked just like 
the first ; and these Hjalmar had written ; but they lay down 
just as if they had tumbled over the pencil lines on which 
they were to stand. 


“See, this is how you should hold yourselves,” said the — 


Copy. “Look, sloping in this way, with a powerful swing!” 


“OQ, we should be very glad to do that,” replied Hjalmar’s 
Letters, ‘‘ but we cannot ; we are too weakly.” 

“Then you must take medicine,” said Ole Shut-Eye. 

“O no,” cried they; and they immediately stood up so 
gracefully that it was beautiful to behold. 

“Yes, now we cannot tell any stories,” said Ole Shut-Eye ; 
“now I must exercise them. One, two! one, two!” and thus 
he exercised the Letters; and they stood quite slender, and 
as beautiful as any copy can be. But when Ole Shut-Fye 
went away, and Hjalmar looked at them next morning, they 
were as weak and miserable as ever. 


. 
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TUESDAY. 


As soon as Hjalmar was in bed, Ole Shut-Eye touched all 
the furniture in the room with his littie magic syringe, and 
they immediately began to talk together, and each one spoke 
of itself, with the exception of the Spittoon, which stood silent, 
and was vexed that they should be sso vain as to speak only 
of themselves, and think only of themselves, without any 
regard for him who stood so modestly in the corner for every 
one’s use. 

Over the chest of drawers hung a great picture in a gilt 
frame —it was a landscape. One saw therein large old trees, 
flowers in the grass, and a broad river which flowed round 
about a forest, past many castles, and far out into the wide 
ocean. 

Ole Shut-Eye touched the painting with his magic syringe, 

_and the birds began to sing, the branches of the trees stirred, 
and the clouds began to move across it; one could see their 
shadows glide over the landscape. 

Now Ole Shut-Eye lifted little Hjalmar up to the frame, 
and put the boy’s feet into the picture, just in the high grass ; 
and there he stood ; and the sun shone upon him through the 
bratiches of the trees. He ran to the water, and seated him- 
self in a little boat which lay there ; it was painted red and 
white, the sails gleamed like silver, and six swans, each with 
a gold circlet round its neck, and a bright blue star on its 


142 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


forehead, drew the boat past the great wood, where the trees 
tell of robbers and witches, and the flowers tell of the grace- 
ful little elves, and of what the butterflies have told them. 

Gorgeous fishes, with scales like silver and gold, swam after 
their boat ; sometimes they gave a spring, so that it splashed 
in the water ; and birds, blue and red, little and great, flew 
after them in two long rows; the gnats danced, and the cock- 
chafers said, “‘ Boom! boom!” ‘They all wanted to follow 
Hjalmar, and each one had a story to tell. 

That was a pleasure voyage. Sometimes the forest was 
thick and dark, sometimes like a glorious garden full of sun- 
light and flowers ; and there were great palaces of glass and 
of marble ; on the balconies stood princesses, and these were 
all little girls whom Hjalmar knew well; he had already 
played with them. Each one stretched forth her hand, and 
held out the prettiest sugar heart which ever a cake-woman 
could sell ; and Hjalmar took hold of each sugar heart as he 
passed by, and the Princess ‘held fast, so that each of them 
got a-piece — she the smaller share, and Hjalmar the larger. 
At each palace little princes stood sentry. They shouldered 
golden swords, and caused raisins and tin soldiers to shower 
down: one could see that: they were real princes. Sometimes 
Hjalmar sailed through forests, sometimes through great halls, 
or through the midst of a town. He also came to the town 
where his nurse lived, who had carried him in her arms when 
he was quite a little boy, and who had always been so kind to 
him; and she nodded and beckoned, and sang the pretty 
verse she had made herself and had sent to Hjalmar : — | 


I think of you, so oft, so oft, 
My own Hjalmar, ever dear ; 
I’ve kissed your little lips so soft, 
Your forehead and your cheeks so clear, 
I heard you utter your first word, 
Then was I forced to say farewell ; 
Now will I trust you to our Lord, 
A good boy here, an angel there to dwell. 


And all the birds sang too, the flowers danced on their 
stalks, and the old trees nodded, just as if Ole Shut-Eye had 
been telling stories to them. 


Hi i ee een 


il i | a oe | i ul 


/ 
i iy 
HK “ 


WEDNESDAY, 


How the rain was streaming down without! Hyjalmar could 
hear it in his sleep ; and when Ole Shut-Eye opened a win- 
dow, the water stood quite up to the window-sill: there was 
quite a lake outside, and a noble ship lay close by the house. 

“Tf thou wilt sail with me, little Hjalmar,” said Ole Shut- 
Eye, “thou canst voyage to-night to foreign climes, and be 
back again to-morrow.” 

And Hyjalmar suddenly stood in his Sunday clothes upon 
the glorious ship, and immediately the weather became fine, 
and they sailed through the streets and steered round by the 
church ; and now everything was one great wild ocean. They 
sailed on until land was no longer to be seen, and they saw 
a number of storks, who also came from their home, and were 
travelling towards the hot countries: these storks flew in a 
row, one behind the other, and they had already flown far — 
far! One of them was so weary that his wings would scarcely 
carry him farther: he was the very last in the row, and soon 
remained a great way behind the rest ; at last he sank, with 
outspread wings, deeper and deeper ; he gave a few more 
strokes with his pinions, but it was of no use ; now he touched 
the rigging of the ship with his feet, then he glided down from 
the sail, and — bump ! — he stood upon the deck. 

Now the cabin boy took him and put him into the hen-coop 


I44 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


with the Fowls, Ducks, and the Turkeys ; and the poor Stork 
stood among them quite embarrassed. 

“Just look at the fellow!” said all the Fowls. 

And the Turkey-cock swelled himself up as much as ever 
he could, and asked the Stork who he was; and the Ducks 
walked backward and quacked to each other, “ Quackery ! 
quackery !” 

And the Stork told them of hot Africa, of the pyramids, » 
and of the ostrich, which runs like a wild horse through the 
desert ; but the Ducks did not understand what he said, and 
they said to one another, — 

“We’re all of the same opinion, namely, that he’s stupid.” 

“Yes, certainly he’s stupid,” said the Turkey-cock ; and he > 
gobbled. 

Then the Stork was quite silent, and thought of his Africa. 

“Those are wonderful thin legs of yours,” said the Turkey- 
cock. ‘“ Pray, how much do they cost a yard?” 

“ Quack ! quack! quack!” grinned all the Ducks ; but the 
Stork pretended not to hear it at all. 

“You may just as well laugh too,” said the Turkey-cock 
to him, “for that was very wittily said. Or was it, perhaps, 
too high for you? Yes, yes, he isn’t very penetrating. Let 
us continue to be interesting among ourselves.” 

And then he gobbled, and the Ducks quacked, ‘ Gick! 
gack! gick! gack!” It was terrible how they made fun 
among themselves. | 

But Hjalmar went to the hen-coop, opened the back door, 
and called to the Stork ; and the Stork hopped out to him on 
to the deck. Now he had rested, and it seemed as if he nod- 
ded to Hjalmar, to thank him ; then he spread his wings, and 
flew away to the warm countries ; but the Fowls clucked, and 
the Ducks quacked, and the Turkey-cock became fiery red in 
the face. 

“To-morrow we shall make songs of you,” said Hjalmar ; 
and so saying he awoke, and was lying in his linen bed. It 
was a wonderful journey that Ole Shut-Eye had caused him 
to take that night. | 


(ee 
A, 


THURSDAY. 


“T tell you what,” said Ole Shut-Eye, “you must not be 
frightened. Here you shall see a little Mouse,” and he held 
out his hand with the pretty little creature in it. “It has 
come to invite you to a wedding. ‘There are two little Mice 
here who are going to enter into the marriage state to-night. 
They live under the floor of your mother’s store-closet: that 
is said to be a charming dwelling-place !” 

“But how can I get through the little mouse-hole in the 
floor?” asked Hjalmar. 

“Let me manage that,” said Ole Shut-Eye. “TI will make 
you small.” 

And he touched Hjalmar with his magic syringe, and the 
boy began to shrink and shrink, until he was not so long as 
a finger. 

“Now you may borrow the uniform of a tin soldier: I think 
it would fit you, and it looks well to wear a uniform when one 
is in society.” 

“Yes, certainly,” said Hjalmar. 

And in a moment he was dressed like the spiciest of tin 
soldiers. - 

“Will your honor not be kind enough to take a seat in your 
mamma’s thimble?” asked the Mouse. “Then I shall have 
the honor of drawing you.” | 

“Will the young lady really take so much trouble?” cried 
Hjalmar. 


And thus they drove to the Mouse’s wedding. First they 
Io 


146 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


came into a long passage beneath the boards, which was only 
just so high that they could drive through it in the thimble ; 
and the whole passage was lit up with rotten wood. 

“Ts there not a delicious smell here?” observed the Mouse. 
“The entire road has been greased with bacon rinds, and 
there can be nothing more exquisite.” 

Now they came into the festive hall. On the right hand 

stood all the little lady mice; and they whispered and gig- 
gled as if they were making fun of each other ; on the left 
stood all the gentlemen mice, stroking their whiskers with 
their fore paws ; and in the centre of the hall the bridegroom 
and bride might be seen standing in a hollow cheese rind, and 
kissing each other terribly before all the guests ; for this was 
the betrothal, and the marriage was to follow immediately. 

More and more strangers kept flocking in. One mouse 
nearly trod another to death; and the happy couple had 
stationed themselves just in the doorway, so that one could 
neither come in nor go out. Like the passage, the room 
had been greased with bacon rinds, and that was the entire 
banquet ; but for the dessert a pea was produced, in which 
a mouse belonging to the family’had bitten the name of the 
betrothed pair—that is to say, the first letter of the name: 
that was something quite out of the common way. 

All the mice said it was a beautiful wedding, and that ae 
entertainment had been very agreeable. And then Hjalmar 
drove home again: he had really been in grand company ; 
but he had been obliged to crawl, to make himself little, and 
to put on a tin soldier’s uniform. 


FRIDAY. 


“Tt is wonderful how many grown-up people there are who 
would be glad to have me!”’ said Ole Shut-Eye ; “especially 
those who have done something wrong. ‘Good little Ole,’ 
they say to me, ‘we cannot close our eyes, and so we lie all 
night and see our evil deeds, which sit on the bedstead like 
ugly little goblins, and throw hot water over us ; will you not 
come and drive them away, so that we may have a good 
sleep?’ and then they sigh deeply, —‘We would really be 
glad to pay for it. Good-night, Ole: the money lies on the 
window-sill.’. But I do nothing for money,” said Ole Shut- 
Eye. | 
“What shall we do this evening?” asked Hjalmar. 

“T don’t know if you care to go to another wedding to-night. 
It is of a different kind from that of yesterday. Your sister’s 
great doll, that looks like a man, and is called Hermann, is 
going to marry the doll Bertha. Moreover, it is the dolls’ 
birthday, and therefore they will receive very many presents.” 

“Yes, I know that,” replied Hjalmar. ‘Whenever the 
dolls want new clothes, my sister lets them either keep their 
birthday or celebrate a wedding ; that has certainly happened 
a hundred times already.” 


148 ANDERSEN'S WONDER STORIES. 


“Ves, but to-night is the hundred and first wedding ; and 
when number one hundred and one is past, it is all over; and 
that is why it will be so splendid. Only look!” 

And Hjalmar looked at the table. There stood the little 
cardboard house with the windows illuminated, and in front 
of it all the tin soldiers were presenting arms. ‘The bride and 
bridegroom sat quite thoughtful, and with good reason, on the 
floor, leaning against a leg of the table. And Ole Shut-Eye, 
dressed up in the grandmother’s black gown, married them 
to each other. When the ceremony was over, all the pieces 
of furniture struck up the following beautiful song, which the 
Pencil had written for them. It was sung to the melody of 
the soldiers’ tattoo: — 


‘Let the song swell like the rushing wind, 
In honor of those who this day are joined, 
Although they stand here stiff and blind, 
Because they are both of a leathery kind. 
Hurrah! hurrah! though they’re deaf and blind, 
Let the song swell like the rushing wind.” 


And now they received presents — but they had declined to 
accept provisions of any kind, for they intended to live on 
love. 

“Shall we now go into a summer lodging, or start on a 
journey ?” asked the bridegroom. 

And the Swallow, who was a great traveller, and the old 
yard Hen, who had brought up five broods of chickens, were 
consulted on the subject. And the Swallow told of the beau- 
tiful warm climes, where the grapes hung in ripe, heavy clus- 
ters, where the air is mild, and the mountains glow with 
colors unknown here. 

“But you have not our brown cole there!” objected the 
Hen. “I was once in the country, with my children, in one 
summer that lasted five weeks. There was a sand-pit, in 
which we could walk about and scratch ; and we had the 
entrée to a garden where brown cole grew: it was so hot there 
that one could scarcely breathe ; and then we have not all the 
poisonous animals that infest these warm countries of yours, 
and we are free from robbers. He is a villain who does not 
consider our country the most beautiful — he certainly does 


OLE SHUT-EYVEi 149 


not deserve to be here!” And then the Hen wept, and went 
on: “I have also travelled. JI rode in a coop above twelve 
miles ; and there is no pleasure at all in travelling!” 

“Ves, the Hen is a sensible woman!” said the doll Bertha. 
“T don’t think anything of travelling among mountains, for 
you only have to go up, and then down again. No, we will 
go into the sand-pit beyond the gate, and walk about in the 
cabbage garden.” 

And so it was settled. 


a ANSS 
if Prin 


th ae 


mM at hh 


SATURDAY. 


“Am I to hear some stories now?” asked little sane 
as soon as Ole Shut-Eye had sent him to sleep. 

“This evening we have no time for that,” replied Ole Shut- 
Eye ; and he spread his finest umbrella over the lad. ‘ Only 
look at these Chinamen !” 

And the whole umbrella looked like a great china dish, 
with blue trees and pointed bridges, with little Chinamen upon 
them, who stood there nodding their heads. 

“We must have the whole world prettily decked out for 
to-morrow morning,” said Ole Shut-Eye, “for that will be a 
holiday — it will be Sunday. I will go to the church steeples 
to see that the little church goblins are polishing the bells, 


150 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


that they may sound sweetly. I will go out into the field, and 
see if the breezes are blowing the dust from the grass and 
leaves ; and, what is the greatest work of all, I will bring 
down all the stars, to polish them. I take them in my apron ; 
but first each one must be numbered, and the holes in which 
they are placed up there must be numbered likewise, so that 
they may be placed in the same grooves again ; otherwise 
they would not sit fast, and we should have too many shoot- 
ing stars, for one after another would fall down.” 

“Hark ye! Do you know, Mr. Ole Shut-Eye,” said an 
old Portrait which hung on the wall where Hjalmar slept, “I 
am Hjalmar’s great-grandfather? I thank you for telling the 
boy stories ; but you must not confuse his ideas. The stars 
cannot come down and be polished! The stars are world- 
orbs, just like our own earth, and that is just the good thing 
about them.” 

“J thank you, old great-grandfather,” said Ole Shut-Eye, 
“JT thank you! You are the. head of the family. You are 
the ancestral head; but I am older than you! I am an old 
heathen: the Romans and Greeks called-me the Dream God ! 
I have been in the noblest houses, and am admitted there 
still! I know how to act with great people and with small! 
Now you may tell your own story!” and Ole Shut-Eye took 
his umbrella, and went away. 

“Well, well! May one not even give an opinion nowa- 
days ?” grumbled the old Portrait. And Hjalmar awoke. 


RY 


SUNDAY. 


= 


“Good evening!” said Ole Shut-Eye ; and Hjalmar nod- 
ded, and then ran and turned his great-grandfather’s Portrait 
against the wall, that it might not interrupt them, as it had 
done yesterday. 

“Now you must tell me stories ; about the five green peas 
that lived in one shell, and about the cock’s foot that paid 
court to the hen’s foot, and of the darning-needle who gave 
herself such airs because she thought herself a working 
needle.” 

“There may be too much of a good thing!” said Ole Shut- 
Eye. “You know that I prefer showing you something. I 
will show you my own brother. His name, like mine, is Ole 
Shut-Eye, but he never comes to any one more than once; 
and he takes him to whom he comes upon his horse, and tells 
him stories. He only knows two. One of these is so exceed- 
ingly beautiful that no one in the world can imagine it, and 
the other so horrible that it cannot be described.” 

And then Ole Shut-Eye lifted little Hjalmar up to the win- 
dow, and said, — 

“There you will see my brother, the other Ole Shut-Eye. 
They also call him Death! Do you see, he does not look 
50 terrible as they make him in the picture-books, where he 
is only a skeleton. No, that is silver embroidery that he has 


152 ANDERSEN'S WONDER STORIES. 


on his coat ; that is a splendid hussar’s uniform; a mantle > 
of black velvet flies behind him over the horse. See how he 
gallops along !” 

And Hjalmar saw how this Ole Shut-eye rode away, and 
took young people as well as old upon his horse. Some of 
them he put before him, and some behind: but he always 
asked first, “‘ How stands it with the mark-book?” “ Well,” 
they all replied. ‘ Yes, let me see it myself,” he said. And 
then each one had to show him the book ; and those who had 
“very well” and “remarkably well” written in their books, 
were placed in front of his horse, and a lovely story was told 
to them; while those who had “middling” or “tolerably 
well,” had to sit up behind, and hear a very terrible story 
indeed. They trembled and wept, and wanted to jump off 
the horse, but this they could not do, for they had all, as it 
were, grown fast to it. x 

“But Death is a most splendid Ole Shut-Eye,” said Hjal- 
mar. ‘Iam not afraid of him!” 

“Nor need you be,” replied Ole Shut-Eye ; “but see that 
you have a good mark-book! ” 

“Yes, that is improving!” muttered the great-grandfather’s 
Picture. “It is of some use giving one’s opinion.” And 
now he was satisfied. 

You see, that is the story of Ole Shut-Eye ; and now he 
may tell you more himself, this evening ! 


” 


Hint Wy 


tHE BLLLAS HLOLLOW, 15 


G2 


THE BELL’S HOLLOW. 


ING-DONG! ding-dong!” sounded from the buried 
Bell in Odensee River. What sort of a river is that? 
_Every child in the town of Odensee knows it. It flows round 
the foot of the gardens, from the locks to the water-mill, 
away under the wooden bridges. In the river grow yellow 
water-lilies, brown, feather-like reeds, and the soft, velvet-like 
bulrushes, so high and so large. Old, split willow-trees, bent 
and twisted, hang'far over the water by the side of the monks’ 
meadows and the bleaching greens ; but a little above is gar- 
den after garden—the one very different from the other: 
some with beautiful flowers and arbors, clean and in prim 
array, like dolls’ villages; some only filled with cabbages ; 
while in others there are no attempts at a garden to be seen 
at all, only great elder-trees stretching themselves out, and 
hanging over the running water, which here and there is 
deeper than an oar can fathom. 

Opposite to the nunnery is the deepest part. It is called 
“The Bell’s Hollow,” and there dwells the Merman. He 
sleeps by day when the sun shines through the water, but 
comes forth on the clear, starry nights, and by moonlight. 
He is very old. Grandmothers have heard of him from their 
grandmothers. They said ‘he lived a lonely life, and had 
scarcely any one to speak to except the large old church-bell. 
Once upon a time it hung up in the steeple of the church ; 
but now there is no trace either of the steeple or of the 
church, which was then called Saint Albani. 

“ Ding-dong! ding-dong!” rang the Bell while it stood in 
the steeple ; and one evening, when the sun was setting, and 
the Bell was in full motion, it broke loose, and flew through 
the air, its shining metal glowing in the red sunbeams. 
“ Ding-dong! ding-dong! now I am going to rest,” sang the 
Bell ; and it flew out to Odensee River, where it was deepest, 
and therefore that spot is now called “The Bell’s Hollow.” 
But it found neither sleep nor rest there. Down at the Mer- 
man’s it still rings ; so that at times it is heard above, through 
the water, and many people say that its tones foretell a death ; 


154 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. — 


but there is no truth in that, for it rings to amuse the Merman, 
who is now no longer alone. 

And what does the Bell relate? It was so very old, it was 
there before our grandmothers’ grandmothers were born, and 
yet it was a child compared with the Merman, who is an old, 
quiet, strange-looking person, with eel-skin leggings, a scaly 
tunic adorned with yellow water-lilies, a wreath of sedges in 
his hair, and weeds in his beard. It must be confessed he 
was not very handsome to look at. 

It would take a year and a day to repeat all that the Bell 
said, for it told the same old stories over and over again very 
minutely, making them sometimes longer, sometimes shorter, 
according to its mood. It told of the olden days — the rig- | 
orous, dark times. 

To the tower upon St. Albani Church, where the Bell hung, 
ascended a monk. He was both young and handsome, but 
had an air of deep melancholy. He looked through an aper- 
ture out over the Odensee River. Its bed then was broad, 
and the monks’ meadows were a lake. He. gazed over them, 
and over the green mound called “The Nun’s Hill,” beyond 
which the cloister lay, where the light shone from a nun’s cell. 
He had known her well, and he remembered the past, and his 
heart beat wildly at the recollection. 

“Ding-dong! ding-dong!” This was one of the Bell’s 
stories :— 7 

“There came up to the tower, one day, an idiot servant of 
the Bishop ; and when I, the Bell, who am cast in hard and 
heavy metal, swung about and pealed, I could have broken 
his head, for he seated himself immediately under me, and 
began to play with two sticks, exactly as if it had been a 
stringed instrument, and he sang to it thus: ‘ Now I may ven- 
ture to sing aloud what elsewhere I dare not whisper — sing 
of all that is kept hidden behind locks and bolts. Yonder 
it is cold and damp. The rats eat the living bodies. No one 
knows of it; no one hears of it—not even now, when the 
Bell is pouring forth its loudest peal — ding-dong ! ding-dong !’ 

“There was a king: he was called Knud. He humbled 
himself both before bishops and monks; but as he unjustly 
oppressed the people, and laid heavy taxes on them, they 


THE BELL'S. HOLLOW. PAS 


armed themselves with all sorts of weapons, and chased him 
away as if he had been a wild beast. He sought shelter in 
the church, and had the doors and windows closed. The 
furious multitude surrounded the sacred edifice, as I heard 
related ; the crows and the ravens, and the jackdaws to boot, 
became scared by the noise and the tumult ; they flew up into 
the tower, and out again ; they looked on the multitude below, 
they looked also in at the church windows, and shrieked out — 
what they saw. 

“King Knud knelt before the altar and prayed ; his broth- 
ers Erik and Benedict stood guarding him with their drawn 
swords ; but the King’s servitor, the false Blaké, betrayed his 
lord. ‘They knew outside where he could be reached. A 
stone was cast in through the window at him, and the King 
lay dead. There were shouts and cries among the angry 
crowd, and cries among the flocks of frightened birds; and I 
joined them, too. I pealed forth, ‘Ding-dong! ding-dong!’ 

“The Church-bell hangs high, sees far around, receives vis- 
its from birds, and understands their language. To it whis- 
pers the Wind through the wickets and apertures, and through 
every little chink ; and the Wind knows everything. He hears 
it from the Air, for z# encompasses all living things; it even 
enters into the lungs of human beings; it hears every word 
and every sigh. The Air knows all, the Wind repeats all, and 
the Bell understands their speech, and rings it forth to the 
~ whole world —‘ Ding-dong! ding-dong!’ 

“But all this was too much for me to hear and to know. I 
had not strength enough to ring it all out. I became so 
wearied, so heavy, that the beam from which I hung broke, 
and I flew through the luminous air down to where the river 
is deepest, where the Merman dwells alone in solitude ; and 
here I am, year after year, relating to him what I have seen 
and what I have heard. ‘Ding-dong! ding-dong!’” 

Thus rang the chimes from “The Bell’s Hollow” in the 
Odensee River, as my grandmother declares. 

But our schoolmaster says there is no Bell ringing down 
there, for it could not be; and there is no Merman down 
there, for there are no mermen; and, when all the church- 
bells are ringing loudly, he says that it is not the bells, but 


oT 56 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


the air, that makes the sound. My grandmother told me that 
the Bell also said this; so, since the schoolmaster and the 
Bell agree in this, no doubt it is true. 

The air knows everything. It is round us, it is in us; it 
speaks of our thoughts and our actions; and it proclaims 
them farther than did the Bell now down in the Hollow in 
Odensee River, where the Merman dwells —it proclaims all 
out into the great vault of heaven, far, far away, even into 
eternity, up to where heaven’s bells ring “ Ding-dong! ding- 


}? 


dong ! 


SS 


Z ZZ 
ZS LE —~ FE 
NZ 


THUMBLING. 


HERE was once a woman who wished for a very little 
child, but she did not know where she should get one. 
So she went to an old witch and said, — 

“J do so very much wish for a little child ; can you not tell 
me where I can get one?” 

*‘O, that’s easily managed,” said the Witch. “Here is a 
barleycorn ; it is not of the kind which grows in the country- 
man’s field, and which the chickens get to eat. Put that into 
a flower-pot, and you shall see what you shall see.” 

“Thank you,” said the Woman; and she gave the Witch 
twelve skillings, went home and planted the barleycorn, and 
immediately there grew up a great handsome flower, which 
looked like a tulip; but the leaves were tightly closed, as 
though it were still a bud. 

“That is a beautiful flower,” said the Woman; and she 
kissed its yellow and red leaves ; and as she kissed it the 
flower gave a loud snap! and opened. It was a real tulip, 
as one could now see; but in the middle of the flower there 
sat upon the green velvet stamens a little maiden, delicate and 
graceful to behold. She was scarcely half a thumb’s length 
in height, and therefore she was called Thumbling. 


1538 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


A neat polished walnut-shell served Thumbling for a cradle, » 
blue violet-leaves were her mattresses, with a rose-leaf for a 
coverlet. ‘There she slept at night ; but in the day-time she 
played upon the table, where the woman had put a plate with 
a wreath of flowers around it, whose stalks stood in water ; 
on the water swam a great tulip-leaf, and on this the little 
maiden could sit, and row from one side of the plate to the 
other, with two white horse-hairs for oars. That looked 
pretty indeed! She could also sing, and, indeed, so delicately 
and sweetly, that the like had never been heard. 

Once, as she lay at night in her pretty bed, there came an 
old Toad creeping through the window, in which one pane 
was broken. The Toad was very ugly, big, and damp: it 
hopped straight down upon the table, where Thumbling lay 
sleeping under the rose-leaf. 

“That would be a handsome wife for my son,” said the 
Toad ; and she took up the walnut-shell in which Thumbling 
lay asleep, and hopped with it through the window down into 
the garden. 

There ran a great broad brook ; but the margin was swampy 
and soft, and here the Toad dwelt with her son. Ugh! he was 
ugly, and looked as old as his mother. “Croak ! croak ! brek- 
kek-kex! ” that was all he could say when he saw the graceful 
little maiden in the walnut-shell. 

“ Don’t speak so loud, or she will awake,” said the old Toad. 
“She might run away from us, for she is as light as a bit of 
swan’s-down. We will put her out in the brook upon one of 
the broad water-lily leaves. That will be just like an island 
for her, she.is so small and light. ‘Then she can’t get away, 
while we put the state room under the marsh in order, where 
you are to live and keep house together.” 

Out in the brook there grew many water-lilies with broad 
green leaves, which looked as if they were floating on the 
water. The leaf which lay farthest out was also the greatest 
of all, and to that the old Toad swam out and laid the walnut- 
shell upon it with Thumbling. The poor little unfortunate 
woke early in the morning, and when she saw where she was, 
she began to cry very bitterly ; for there was water on every 
side of the great green leaf, and she could not get to land at. 


THUMBLING. 159 


_all. The old Toad sat down in the marsh, decking out her 
room with rushes and yellow weed — it was to be made very 
pretty for the new daughter-in-law ; then she swam out with 
her ugly son, to the leaf on which Thumbling was. They 
wanted to take her pretty bed, which was to be put in the 
bridal chamber before she went in there herself. The old 
Toad bowed low before her, and said, ‘‘ Here is my son; he 
will be your husband, and you will live splendidly together in 
the marsh.” 

“Croak! croak! brek-kek-kex!” that was all the son could 
say: 

They took the delicate little bed, and swam away with it; 
but Thumbling sat all alone upon the green leaf and wept, fon 
she did not like to live at the nasty Toad’s, and have her ugly 
son fora husband. ‘The little fishes swimming in the water 
below had both seen the ‘oad, and had also heard what she 
said ; therefore they stretched forth their heads, for they 
wanted to see the little girl. So soon as they saw her, they 
thought her so pretty that they felt very sorry she should have 
to go down to the ugly Toad. No, that must never be! They 
got together in the water around the green stalk which held 
the leaf upon which the little maiden stood, and with their 
teeth they gnawed away the stalk, and so the leaf swam down 
the stream ; and away went Thumbling, far away, where the 
Toad Boiild: not get at her. 

Thumbling sailed past many cities, and the little birds 
which sat in the bushes saw her, and said, “What a lovely lit- 
tle girl!” The leaf swam away with them, farther and far- 
ther ; so Thumbling travelled out of the country. 

A graceful little white Butterfly always fluttered round her, 
and at last alighted upon the leaf. Thumbling pleased him, 
and she was very glad of this, for now the Toad could not 
reach them ; and it was so beautiful where she was floating 
along — the sun shone upon the water, and the water glistened 
like the most splendid gold. She took her girdle and bound 
one end of it round the butterfly, fastening the other end of 
the ribbon to the leaf. The leaf now glided on much faster, 
and Thumbling, too, for she stood upon the leaf. 

There came a big May-bug flying up; and he saw her, and 


2 


160 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


immediately clasped his claws round her slender waist, and 
flew with her into a tree. The green Jeaf was swimming down 
the brook, and the Butterfly with it ; for he was fastened to the 
leaf, and could not get away from it. 

Mercy! how frightened poor little Thumbling was when the 
May-bug flew with her up into the tree! But especially she 
was sorry for the fine white Butterfly whom she had bound fast 
to the leaf, for, if he could not free himself from it, he would 
be obliged to starve. The May-bug, however, did not trouble 
himself at all about this. He seated himself with her upon 
the biggest green leaf of the tree, gave her the sweet part of 
the flowers to eat, and declared that she was very pretty, 
though she did not in the least resemble a may-bug. After- 
wards came all the other may-bugs who lived in the tree to 
pay a visit ; they looked at Thumbling, and said, — 

“Why, she has not even more than two legs! that has a 
wretched appearance.” 

‘She has not any feelers!” cried another. 

“ Her waist is quite slender — fie! she looks like a human 
creature — how ugly she is!” said all the lady may-bugs. 

And yet Thumbling was very pretty. Even the May-bug 
who had carried her off saw that ; but when all the others de- 
clared she was ugly, he believed it at last, and would not have 
her at all —she might go whither she liked. ‘Then they flew 
down with her from the tree, and set her upon a daisy, and 
she wept, because she was so ugly that the may-bugs would 
have nothing to say to her ; and yet she was the loveliest little 
being one could imagine, and as tender and delicate as a rose- 
leaf. | 

The whole.summer through poor Thumbling lived quite 
alone in the great wood. She wove herself a bed out of 
blades of grass, and hung it up under a shamrock, so that 
she was protected from the rain; she plucked the honey out 
of the flowers for food, and drank of the dew which stood 
every morning upon the leaves. Thus summer and autumn 
passed away; but now came winter, the cold, long winter. 
All the birds who had sung so sweetly before her flew away ; 
trees and flowers shed their leaves ; the great shamrock under 
which she had lived shriveled up, and there remained nothing 


!?? 


THUMBLING. 161 


of it but a yellow, withered stalk; and she was dreadfully 
cold, for her clothes were torn, and she herself was so frail 
and delicate — poor little Thumbling! she was nearly frozen. 
It began to snow, and every snow-flake that fell upon her was 
like a whole shovelful thrown upon one of us, for we are tall, 
and she was only an inch long. Then she wrapped herself in 
a dry leaf, and that tore in the middle, and would not warm 
her —she shivered with cold. 

Close to the wood into which she had now come lay a great 
corn-field, but the corn was gone long ago; only the naked, 
dry stubble stood up out of the frozen ground. These,were 
just like a great’ forest for her to wander through; and O! 
how she trembled with cold. Then she arrived at the door of 
the Field-mouse. ‘This mouse had a little hole under the 
stubble. ‘There the Field-mouse lived, warm and comfort- 
able, and had a whole roomful of corn —a glorious kitchen 
and larder. Poor Thumbling stood at the door just like a 
poor beggar girl, and begged for a little bit of a barleycorn, 
for she had not had the smallest morsel to eat for the last 


two days. 
“You poor little creature,” said the Field-mouse — for 
after all she was a good old Field-mouse — “come into my 


warm room and dine with me.” 

As she was pleased with Thumbling, she said, “If you like, 
you may stay with me through the winter, but you must keep 
my room clean and neat, and tell me pretty little stories, 
because I am very fond of hearing those.” 

And Thumbling did as the kind old Field-mouse bade her, 
and had a very good time of it. 

“Now we shall soon have a visitor,’ said the Bude 
“My neighbor is in the habit of visiting me once a week. - 
He is even better off than I am, has great rooms, and a beau- 
' tiful black, velvety fur. If you could only get him for your 
husband, you would be well provided for. You must tell him 
the prettiest stories you know.” 

But Thumbling did not care about this; she thought noth- 
ing of the neighbor, for he was a mole. He came and paid 
his visits in his black velvet coat. The Field-mouse told how 
rich and how learned he was, and how his house was more 

II 


162 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


than twenty times larger than hers ; that he had learning, but 
that he did not like the sun and beautiful flowers, for he had 
never seen them. | 

Thumbling had to sing, and she sang “ Lady-bug, lady-bug, 
fly away home,” and “ When the parson goes afield.” Then 
the Mole fell in love with her, because of her delicious voice ; 
but he said nothing, for he was a very sedate person. 

A short time before, he had dug a long passage through the 
earth from his own house to theirs; and Thumbling and the 
Field-mouse obtained leave to walk in this passage as much 
as they wished. But he begged them not to be afraid of the 
dead bird which was lying in the passage. It was an entire 
bird, with wings and a beak. It certainly must have died — 
only a short time before, and was now buried just where the 
Mole had made his passage. 

The Mole took a bit of decayed wood in his mouth, and it 
elimmered like fire in the dark; and then he went first and 
lighted them through the long, dark passage. When they 
came where the dead bird lay, the Mole thrust up his broad 
nose against the ceiling, so that a great hole was made, 
through which the daylight could shine down. In the middle 
of the floor lay a dead swallow, his beautiful wings pressed 
close against his sides, and his head and feet drawn back 
under his feathers: the poor bird had certainly died of cold. 
Thumbling was very sorry for this; she was very fond of all 
the little birds, who had sung and twittered so prettily before 
her through the summer ; but the Mole gave him a push with 
his crooked legs, and said, “ Now he doesn’t pipe any more. 
It must be miserable to be born a little bird. I’m thankful 
that none of my children can be that: such a bird has noth- 
ing but his ‘tweet-weet,’ and has to starve in the winter!” 

“Yes, you may well say that, as a clever man,” observed 
the Mouse. “Of what use is all this ‘tweet-weet’ to a bird 
when the winter comes? He must starve and freeze. But 
they say that’s aristocratic.” 

Thumbling said nothing ; but when the two others turned 
their backs on the bird, she bent down, put the feathers aside 
which covered his head, and kissed him upon his closed eyes. 

‘Perhaps it was he who sang so prettily before me in the 


aN; 


WW, 
] 
Ul 


THUMBLING. 165 


summer,” she thought. “ How much pleasure he gave me, 
the dear, beautiful bird!” 

The Mole now closed up the hole through which the day- 
light shone in, and accompanied the ladies home. But at 
night ‘Thumbling could not sleep at all; so she got up out of 
her bed, and wove a large, beautiful carpet of hay, and carried 
it and spread it over the dead bird, and laid the thin stamens 
of flowers, soft as cotton, which she had found in the Field- 
mouse’s room, at the bird’s sides, so that he might lie soft in 
the ground. 

‘“‘Farewell, you pretty little bird!” said she. “Farewell! 
and thanks to you for your beautiful song in the summer, 
when all the trees were green, and the sun shone down 
warmly upon us.” And then she laid the bird’s head upon 
her heart. But the bird was not dead; he was only lying 
there torpid with cold; and now he had been warmed, and 
came to life again. 

In autumn all the swallows fly away to warm countries ; but 
if one happens to be belated, it becomes so cold that it falls 
down as if dead, and lies where it fell, and then the cold 
snow covers it. 

Thumbling fairly trembled, she was so startled; for the 
bird was large, very large, compared with her, who was only 
an inch in height. But she took courage, laid the cotton 
closer round the poor bird, and brought a leaf that she had 
used as her own coverlet, and laid it over the bird’s head. 

The next night she crept out to him again—and now he 
was alive, but quite weak ; he could only open his eyes for a 
moment, and look at ‘Thumbling, who stood before him with 
a bit of decayed wood in her hand, for she had not a lantern. 

“JT thank you, you pretty little child,” said the sick Swal- 
low; “I have been nicely warmed. Soon I shall get my 
strength back again, and I shall be able to fly about in the 
warm sunshine.” 

“(),” she said, “it is so cold without. It snows and freezes. 
Stay in your warm bed, and I will nurse you.” 

Then she brought the Swallow water in the petal of a 
flower ; and the Swallow drank, and told her how he had torn 
one of his wings in a thorn-bush, and thus had not been able 


166 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


to fly so fast as the other swallows, which had sped away, fat 
away, to the warm countries. So at last he had fallen to the 
eround, but he could remember nothing more, and did not 
know at all how he had come where she had found him. 

The whole winter the Swallow remained there, and Thumb- 
ling nursed and tended him heartily. Neither the Field- 
mouse nor the Mole heard anything about it, for they did not 
like the poor Swallow. So soon as the spring came, and. the 
sun warmed the earth, the Swallow bade Thumbling farewell, 
and she opened the hole which the Mole had made in the 
ceiling. The sun shone in upon them gloriously, and the 
Swallow asked if Thumbling would go with him; she could. 
sit upon his back, and they would fly away far into: the green 
wood. But Thumbling knew that the old Field-mouse would: 
- be grieved if she left her. 

“No, I cannot!” said Thumbling. 

“ Farewell, farewell, you good, pretty girl!” said the Swal- 
low; and he flew out in the sunshine. Thumbling looked 
after him, and the tears came into her eyes, for she was heart- 
ily and sincerely fond of the poor Swallow. 

“ Tweet-weet! tweet-weet!” said the bird, and flew into 
the green forest. Thumbling felt very sad. She did not get 
permission to go out into the warm sunshine. The corn 
which was sown in the field over the house of the Field- 
mouse grew up high into the air; it was quite a thick wood 
for the poor girl, who was only an inch in height. 

“You are betrothed now, Thumbling,” said the Field- 
mouse. “My neighbor has proposed for you. What great 
fortune for a poor child like you! Now you must work at 
your outfit, woolen and linen clothes both ; for Aue must lack 
nothing when you have become the Mole’s wife.” 

Thumbling had to turn the spindle, and the Mole hired 
four spiders to weave for her day and night. Every evening 
the Mole paid her a visit; and he was always saying that 
when the summer should draw to a close the sun would not 
shine nearly so hot, for that now it burned the earth almost as 
hard as a stone. Yes, when the summer should have gone, 
then he would keep his wedding-day with Thumbling. But 
she was not glad at all, for she did not like the tiresome Mole. 


\ 


i 


THUMBLING. 167 


Every morning when the sun rose, and every evening when it 
went down, she crept out at the door; and when the wind 
blew the corn ears apart, so that she could see the blue sky, 
she thought how bright and beautiful it was out here, and 
wished heartily to see her dear Swallow again. But the Swal- 
low did not come back ; he had doubtless flown far away, in 
the fair, green forest. When autumn came on, Thumbling 
had all her outfit ready. 

“In four weeks you shall celebrate your wedding,” said the 
Field-mouse to her. 

But Thumbling wept, and declared she would not have the 
tiresome Mole. 

“Nonsense,” said the Field-mouse ; “don’t be obstinate, 
or I will bite you with my white teeth. He is a very fine man 
whom you will marry. The Queen herself has not such a 
black velvet fur; and his kitchen is full. Be thankful for 
your good fortune.” 

Now the wedding was to be held. The Mole had already 
come to fetch Thumbling; she was to live with him, deep 
under the earth, and never to come out into the warm sun-_ 
shine, for that he did not like. ‘The poor little thing was very 
sorrowful ; she was now to say farewell to the glorious sun, 
which, after all, she had been allowed by the Field-mouse to 
see from the threshold of the door. | 

“Farewell, thou bright sun!” she said, and stretched out 
her arms towards it, and walked a little way forth from the 
house of the Field-mouse, for now the corn had been reaped, 
and only the dry stubble stood in the fields. “ Farewell!” 
she repeated, twining her arms round a little red flower which 
still bloomed there. “Greet the Swallow from me, if you see 
him again.” 

“'Tweet-weet ! tweet-weet !” a voice sounded suddenly over 
her head. She looked up; it was the little Swallow, who 
was just flying by. When he saw Thumbling he was very 
glad; and she told him how loath she was to have the ugly 
Mole for her husband, and that she was to live deep under 
the earth, where the sun never shone. And she could not 
refrain from weeping. 

“The cold weather is coming now,” said the Swallow; “I 


168 ANDERSEN'S WONDER STORIES. 


am going to fly far away into the warm countries. Will you 
come with me? You can sit upon my back; then we shall 
fly from the ugly Mole and his dark room — away, far away, 
over the mountains, to the warm countries, where the sun 
shines warmer than here, where it is always summer, and 
there are lovely flowers. Only fly with me, you dear little 
Thumbling, you who have saved: my life when I lay frozen in’ 
the dark, earthy passage.” 

“Ves, I will go with you!” said Thumbling, and she seated 
herself on the bird’s back, with her feet on his outspread 
wing, and bound her girdle fast to one of his strongest feath- 
ers; then the Swallow flew up into the air, over forest and 
over sea, high up over the great mountains, where the snow 
always lies; and Thumbling felt cold in the bleak air, but 
then she hid under the bird’s warm feathers, and only put out 
her little head to admire all the beauties beneath her. 

At last they came to the warm countries. ‘There the sun 
shone far brighter than here ; the sky seemed twice as high ; 
in ditches and on the hedges grew the most beautiful blue and 
green grapes; lemons and oranges hung in the woods; the 
air was fragrant with myrtles and balsams, and on the roads 
the loveliest children ran about, playing with the gay butter- 
flies. But the Swallow flew still farther, and it became more 
and more beautiful. Under the most glorious green trees by 
the blue lake stood a palace of dazzling white marble from 
the olden time. Vines clustered all around the lofty pillars ; 
at the top were many swallows’ nests, and in one of these the 
Swallow lived who carried Thumbling. 

“That is my house,” said the Swallow ; “but it is not right 
that you should live there. It is not yet properly arranged, 
by a great deal, and you will not be content with it. Select 
for yourself one of the splendid flowers which grow down 
yonder, then I will put you into it, and you shall have every- 
thing as nice as you can wish.” 

“This is delightful,” cried she, clapping her hands. 

A great marble pillar lay there, which had fallen to the 
ground and had been broken into three pieces ; but between 
these pieces grew the most beautiful great white flowers. 
The Swallow flew down with Thumbling, and set her upon 


THUMBLING. 169 


one of the broad leaves. But what was the little maid’s sur- 
prise? There sata little man in the midst of the flower, as 
white and transparent as if he had been made of glass: he 
wore the neatest of gold crowns on his head, and the bright- 
est wings on his shoulders ; he himself was not bigger than 
Thumbling. He was the angel of the flower. In each of the 
flowers dwelt such a little man or woman, but this one was 
King over them all. 

“ Heavens! how beautiful he is!”” whispered Thumbling to 
the Swallow. 

The little Prince was very much frightened at the Swallow ; 
for it was quite a gigantic bird to him, who was so small. 
But when he saw Thumbling, he became very glad; she was 
the prettiest maiden he had ever seen. Therefore he took off 
his golden crown, and put it upon her, and asked her name, 
and if she would be his wife, and then she should be Queen 
of all the flowers. Now this was truly a different kind of 
man to the son of the Toad, and the Mole with the black vel- 
vet fur. She therefore said “ Yes” to the charming Prince. 
And out of every flower came a lady or a lord, so pretty to 
behold that it was a delight ; each one brought Thumbling a 
present ; but the best gift was a pair of beautiful wings which 
had belonged to a great white fly; these were fastened to 
Thumbling’s back, and now she could fly from flower to 
flower. ‘Then there was much rejoicing ; and the little Swal- 
low sat above them in his nest, and was to sing the marriage 
song, which he accordingly did as well as he could; but yet 
in his heart he was sad, for he was so fond, O! so fond of 
Thumbling, and would have liked never to part from her. 

“You shall not be called Thumbling,” said the Flower 
Angel to her; “that is an ugly name, and you are too fair for 
it ; we will call you Maia.” 

‘Farewell, farewell!” said the little Swallow, with a heavy 
heart ; and he flew away again from the warm countries, far 
away back to Denmark. There he had a little nest over the 
window of the man who can tell fairy tales. Before him he 
sang, “'Tweet-weet! tweet-weet!” and from him we have the 
whole story. 


EefO ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


THE; WICKED PRINCE: 
A LEGEND. 


NCE upon a time, there was a wicked and haughty 

prince, whose thoughts constantly dwelt on how he 
might subjugate all the nations of the earth, and make his 
name a terror to all men. He ravaged with fire and sword ; 
his soldiers trod down the grain in the fields; they put the 
torch to the peasant’s cottage, so that the red flame licked 
the very leaves from the trees, and the fruit hung roasted 
from the black and singed limbs. Many a poor mother, with 
her naked babe, hid away behind the smoking ruins, and the 
soldiers sought her, and found her and the child, and then 
began their devilish sport: the demons of the pit could do 
no worse ; but the Prince found it all to his liking ; day by 
day he grew mightier, his name was feared by everybody, 
and good fortune came upon him to his heart’s content. 
From the conquered cities he carried away gold and great 
treasure, and amassed in his capital such riches as were never 
before found together in one place. ‘Then he built superb 
palaces, temples, and arches ; and whoever saw his magnifi- 
cence, exclaimed, “ What a great Prince!” — never thinking 
of the desolation he had brought over many lands, nor listen- 
ing to the groans and wailings that arose from the cities 
which fire had laid waste. 

The Prince looked upon his gold, looked upon his superb 
buildings, and thought, as folks did, “ What a great Prince! ” 
“But I wish to have more, much more! No power is there 
that can equal, much less surpass, mine!” And so he went 
to war with his neighbors and subdued them all. The van- 
quished kings he chained to his chariot with golden chains, 
when he drove through the streets; and when he sat down 
to his table, they were made to lie at his and his courtiers’ 
feet, and eat the morsels that might be thrown to them. 

Now the Prince caused his image to be set up in the mar- 
ket-places and in the royal palaces ; yea, he would ‘have set 
it up in the temples before the altar of the Lord; but the 


tdii VCE), PRINCE. I7I 


priests said, “ Prince, thou art great, but God is greater: we 
dare not do it.” 

“Well,” said the wicked Prince, “then I shall conquer 
Him likewise!” and in his heart’s pride and folly, he built an 
artfully contrived ship, in which he could sail through the air ; 
it was decked with peacocks’-feathers, and seemed spangled 
with a thousand eyes ; but each eye was a gun’s mouth, and 
the Prince sat in the midst of the ship, and, upon his touching 
a certain spring, a thousand bullets would dart forth, and the 
guns would at once be loaded afresh. Hundreds of strong 
eagles were harnessed to the ship, and so it flew away, up 
towards the sun. ‘The earth lay far beneath ; at first it ap- 
peared, with its mountains and forests, like a ploughed 
meadow, with a tuft of green here and there peeping out from 
under the upturned sod ; then it resembled an unrolled map ; 
and presently it was wholly hid in mists and clouds. Higher 
and higher the eagles flew ; when God sent forth a single one 
of his countless angels, at whom the wicked Prince immedi- 
ately let fly a thousand bullets ; but the bullets dropped like 
hail from the angel’s shining wings, and one drop of blood — 
but one — dripped from one of the white pinions, and fell on 
the ship wherein sat the Prince ; it burned itself fast there, 
and weighed with a weight of a thousand hundred-weight, and 
with thundering speed tore the ship down back to the earth. 
The eagles’ strong wings were broken, the winds roared about 
the Prince’s head ; and the clouds round about, which had 
sprung from the smoke of the burned cities, formed them- 
selves into terrific shapes, — anon like mile-long crab-fish, 
reaching out their huge claws after him, — anon like rolling 
boulders or like fiery dragons: half dead he lay in his ship, 
when it finally was caught in the tangled branches of a dense 
forest. 

“T qéll conquer God!” said he; “I have vowed it, and 
my will shall be done!” and during seven years he builded 
artfully contrived vessels, in which to sail through the air, 
and caused thunderbolts to be forged from the hardest of 
steel, wherewith to batter down heaven’s battlements. From 
all countries, he assembled vast armies, which covered many 
miles of ground in length and breadth, when formed in bat- 


I72 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


tle array. ‘They embarked in the artfully built vessels, and 
already the King himself approached his ; when God sent 
forth a swarm of gnats—one little swarm — which buzzed 
about the King, and stung his face and hands. In anger he 
drew his sword ; but he beat the void air only: the gnats he 
could not strike. Whereupon he commanded that costly 
cloths be brought, and wrapped about him, so that no gnat 
might reach him with its sting. It was done as he had com- 
manded ; but one little gnat had lodged itself in the folds of 
the inmost cloth, and crept into the King’s ear and stung 
him ; the sting smarted as fire, the poison flew up into his 
head ; he tore himself loose, flung the cloths far away, rent 
his garments asunder, and danced naked before the rough 
and savage soldiers, who now mocked the mad Prince that 
had set out to besiege God, and had been himself undone by 
one tiny gnat. 


THE SNOW-QUEEN. 


FIRST STORY, 
Which treats of a Mirror and of the Splinters. 


OW, then, let us begin. When we are at the end of 
the story, we shall know more than we know now: but 
to begin. 

Once upon a time there was a wicked Sprite, indeed he was 
the most mischievous of all sprites. One day he was in a 
very good humor, for he had made a mirror with the power 
of causing all that was good and beautiful, when it was re- 
flected therein, to look poor and mean; but that which was 
good for nothing and looked ugly, was shown magnified and 
increased in ugliness. In this mirror the most beautiful 
landscapes looked like boiled spinach, and the best persons 
were turned into frights, or appeared to stand on their heads ; 
their faces were so distorted that they were not to be recog- 
nized ; and if any one had a mole, you might be sure that it 
would be magnified and spread over both nose and mouth. 
“That’s glorious fun!” said the Sprite. If a good thought 
passed through a man’s mind, then a grin was seen in the 
mirror, and the Sprite laughed heartily at his clever discovery. 


174 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


All the little sprites who went to his school—for he kept a 
sprite-school — told each other that a miracle had happened ; 
and that now only, as they thought, it would be possible to 
see how the world really looked. They ran about with the 
mirror ; and at last there was not a land or a person who 
was not represented distorted in the mirror. So then they 
thought they would fly up to the sky, and have a joke there. 
The higher they flew with the mirror, the more terribly it 
grinned ; they could hardly hold it fast. Higher and higher 
still they flew, nearer and nearer to the stars, when suddenly 
the mirror shook so terribly with grinning, that it flew out of 
their hands and fell to the earth, where it was dashed ina 
hundred million and more pieces. And now it worked much 
more evil than before ; for some of these pieces were hardly 
so large as a grain of sand, and they flew about in the wide 
world, and when they got into people’s eyes, there they 
stayed ; and then people saw everything perverted, or only 
had an eye for that which was evil. This happened because 
the very smallest bit had the same power which the whole 
mirror had possessed. Some persons even got a splinter in 
their heart, and then it made one shudder, for their heart 
became like a lump of ice. Some of the broken pieces were 
so large that they were used for window-panes, through which 
one could not see one’s friends. Other pieces were put in 
spectacles ; and that was a sad affair when people put on 
their glasses to see well and rightly. Then the wicked Sprite 
laughed till he almost choked, for all this tickled his fancy. 
The fine splinters still flew about in the air: and now we 
shall hear what happened next. 


Ii Y 
} pe 


int 


’ 


SECOND STORY. 


A Little Boy and a Little Girl. 


In a large town, where there are so many houses, and so 
many people, that there is no room left for everybody to 
have a little garden; and where, on this account, most per- 
sons are obliged to content themselves with flowers in pots, 
there lived two little children, who had a garden somewhat 
larger than a flower-pot. They were not brother and sister ; 
but they cared for each other as much as if they were. Their 
parents lived exactly opposite. ‘They inhabited two garrets ; 
and where the roof of the one house joined that of the other, 
and the gutter ran along the extreme end of it, there was to 
each house a small window: one needed only to step over the 
gutter to get from one window to the other. 

The children’s parents had large wooden boxes there, in 
which vegetables for the kitchen were planted, and little rose- 
trees besides: there was a rose in each box, and they grew 
splendidly. They now thought of placing the boxes across 
the gutter, so that they nearly reached from one window to 
the other, and looked just like two walls of flowers. The 
tendrils of the peas hung down over the boxes, and the rose- 
trees shot up long branches, twined around the windows, and 


. 
° 


176 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


then bent towards each other: it was almost like a triumphal 
arch of foliage and flowers. The boxes were very high, and 
the children knew that they must not creep over them; so 
they often obtained permission to get out of the windows to 
each other, and to sit on their little stools among the roses, 
where they could play delightfully. In winter there was an 
end of this pleasure. ‘The windows were often frozen over ; 
but then they heated copper farthings on the stove, and laid 
the hot farthing on the window-pane, and then they had a 
capital peep-hole, quite nicely rounded ; and out of each 
peeped a gentle, friendly eye — it was the little boy and the 
little girl who were looking out. His name was Kay, hers 
was Gerda. In summer, with one jump, they could get to 
each other ; but in winter they were obliged first to go down 
the long stairs, and then up the long stairs again: and out-of- 
doors there was quite a snow-storm. 

“It is the white bees that are swarming,” said Kay’s old 
grandmother. 

“Do the white bees choose a queen?” asked the little boy ; 
for he knew that the honey-bees always have one. 

“Ves,” said the grandmother, ‘ she flies where the swarm 
hangs in the thickest clusters. She is the largest of all ; and 
she can never remain quietly on the earth, but goes up again 
into the black clouds. Many a winter’s night she flies through 
the streets of the town, and peeps in at the windows ; and 
they then freeze in so wondrous a manner that they look like 
flowers.” 

“Yes, I have seen it,” said both the children ; and so they 
knew that it was true. 

“Can the Snow-Queen come in?” said the little girl. 

“Only det her come in!” said’ the inthe (boy athena 
put her on the stove, and she’d melt.” 

And then his grandmother patted his head, and told him | 
other stories. 

In the evening, when little Kay was at home, and half un- 
dressed, he climbed up on the chair by the window, and 
peeped out of the little hole. A few snow-flakes were falling, 
and one, the largest of all, remained lying on the edge of a 
flower-pot. The flake of snow grew larger and larger; and 


THE SNOW-QUEEN. 177 


at last it was like a young lady, dressed in the finest white 
gauze, made of a million little flakes, like stars. She was so 
beautiful and delicate, but she was of ice, of dazzling, spark- 
ling ice ; yet she lived ; her eyes gazed fixedly, like two stars ; 
but there was neither quiet nor repose in them. She nodded 
toward the window, and beckoned with her hand. The little 
boy was frightened, and jumped down from the chair; it 
seemed to him as if, at the same moment, a large bird flew 
past the window. 

The next day it was a sharp frost; and then the spring 
came ; the sun shone, the green leaves appeared, the swal- 
lows built their nests, the windows were opened, and the little 
children again sat in their pretty garden, high up on the leads 
at top of the house. 

That summer the roses flowered in unwonted beauty. The 
little girl had learned a hymn, in which there was something 
about roses; and then she thought of her own flowers ; and 
she sang the verse to the little boy, who then sang it with 


her : — 
““The rose in the valley is blooming so sweet, 
The Child Jesus is there the children to greet.” 


And the children held each other by the hand, kissed the 
roses, looked up at the clear sunshine, and spoke as if they 
really saw Jesus there. What lovely summer days those were! 
How delightful to be out in the air, near the fresh rose- 
bushes, that seemed as if they would never finish blossoming ! 

Kay and Gerda looked at the picture-book full of beasts 
and of birds ; and it was then — the clock in the church-tower 
was just striking five—that Kay said, “O! I feel such a 
sharp pain in my heart ; and now something has got into my 
eye bs 

The little girl put her arms round his neck. He winked 
his eyes ; now there was nothing to be seen. 

“T think it is out now,” said he ; but it was not. It was 
just one of those pieces of glass from the magic mirror that 
had got into his eye; and poor Kay had got another piece 
right in his heart. It will soon become like ice. It did not 
hurt any longer, but there it was. 

“What are you crying for?” asked he. “You look so 


I2 


178 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


ugly! There’s nothing the matter with me. Ah,” said he 
at once, “that rose is cankered! and, look, this one is quite. 
crooked! after all, these roses are very ugly! they are just 
like the box they are planted in!” And then he gave the 
box a good kick with his foot, and pulled both the roses up. 

“What are you doing?” cried the little girl; and as he 
perceived her fright, he pulled up another rose, got in at the 
window, and hastened off from dear little Gerda. 

Afterwards, when she brought her picture-book, he asked, 
“ What horrid beasts had she there?” and if his grandmother 
told him stories, he always interrupted her; besides, if he 
could manage it, he would get behind her, put on her specta- 
cles, and imitate her way of speaking: he copied all her ways, 
and then everybody laughed at him. He was soon able to 
imitate the gait and manner of every one in the street. Every- 
thing that was peculiar and displeasing in them, — that Kay 
knew how to imitate ; and at such times all the people said, 
“ The boy is certainly very clever!” But it was the glass he 
had got in his eye; the glass that was sticking in his heart, 
which made him tease even little Gerda, whose whole soul 
was devoted to him. 

His games now were quite different to what they had for- 
merly been, they were so very knowing. One winter’s day, 
when the flakes of snow were flying about, he spread the 
skirts of his blue coat, and caught the snow as it fell. 

“Took through this glass, Gerda,” said he. And every 
flake seemed larger, and appeared like a magnificent flower, 
or a beautiful star: it was splendid to look at! 

“Look, how clever!” said Kay. ‘That’s much more inter- 
esting than real -flowers! They are as exact as possible ; 
there is not a fault in them, if they did not melt!” 

It was not long after this that Kay came one day with 
large gloves on, and his little sledge at his back, and bawled 
right into Gerda’s ears, ““I have permission to go out into the 
square, where the others are playing ;” and off he was ina 
moment. 

There, in the market-place, some of the boldest of the boys 
used to tie their sledges to the carts as they passed by, and 
so they were pulled along, and got a good ride. It was so 


THE SNOW-QUEEN. 179 


capital! Just as they were in the very height of their amuse- 
ment, a large sledge passed by: it was painted quite white, 
and there was some one in it wrapped up in a rough white 
mantle of fur, with a rough white fur cap on his head. ‘The 
sledge drove round the square twice, and Kay tied on his as 
quickly as he could, and off he drove with it. On they went 
quicker and quicker into the next street ; and the person who 
drove turned round to Kay, and nodded to him in a friendly 
manner, just as if they knew each other. Every time he was 
going to untie his sledge the person nodded to him, and then 
Kay sat quiet; and so on they went till they came outside 
the gates of the town. Then the snow began to fall so 
thickly, that the little boy could not see an arm’s length 
before him, but still on he went; when suddenly he let go 
the string he held in his hand in order to get loose from the 
sledge, but it was of no use; still the little vehicle rushed on 
with the quickness of the wind. He then cried as loud as he 
could, but no one heard him ; the snow drifted and the sledge 
flew on, and sometimes it gave a jerk as though they were 
driving over hedges and ditches. He was quite frightened, 
and he tried to repeat the Lord’s Prayer ; but all he could 
do, he was only able to remember the multiplication table. 

The snow-flakes grew larger and larger, till at last they 
looked just like great white fowls. Suddenly they flew on 
one side ; the large sledge stopped, and the person who drove 
rose up. It was a lady; her cloak and cap were of snow. 
She was tall, of slender figure, and of a dazzling whiteness. 
It was the Snow-Queen. 

‘““We have travelled fast,’ said she ; “but it is freezingly 
cold. Come under my bearskin.” And she put him in the 
sledge beside her, wrapped the fur round him, and he felt 
as though he were sinking in a snow-wreath. 

“Are you still cold?” asked she ; and then she kissed his 
forehead. Ah! it was colder than ice; it penetrated to his 
‘very heart, which was already almost a frozen lump; it 
seemed to him as if he were about to die, —but a moment 
more and it was quite congenial to him, and he did not re- 
mark the cold that was around him. 

“My sledge! Do not forget my sledge!” It was the 


180 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


first thing he thought of. It was there, tied to one of the 
white chickens, who flew along with it on his back behind the 
large sledge. The Snow-Queen kissed Kay once more, and 
then he forgot little Gerda, grandmother, and all whom he 
had left at his home. 

“Now you will have no more kisses,” said she, “or else I 
should kiss you to death!” 

Kay looked at her. She was very beautiful ; a more clever 
or amore lovely countenance he could not fancy to himself ; 
and she no longer appeared of ice as before, when she sat 
outside the window, and beckoned to him; in his eyes she 
was. perfect ; he did not fear her at all, and told her that he 
could caiculate in his head, and with fractions even; that he 
knew the number of square miles there were in the different 
countries, and how many inhabitants they contained; and 
she smiled while he spoke. It then seemed to him as if what 
he knew was not enough, and he looked upwards in the large, 
huge, empty space above him, and on she flew with him; 
flew high over the black clouds. while the storm moaned and 
whistled as though it were singing some old tune. On they 
flew over woods and lakes, over seas and many lands; and 
beneath them the chilling storm rushed fast, the wolves 
howled, the snow crackled ; above them flew large screaming 
crows, but higher up appeared the moon, quite large and 
bright ; and it was on it that Kay gazed during the long, long 
winter’s night, while by day he slept at the feet of the Snow- 
Queen. 


Pe V Ne as 
Spa Roa he 


THIRD STORY. 


Of the Flower-garden at the old Woman's who understood 
Witchcraft. 


But what became of little Gerda when Kay did not return? 
Where could he be? Nobody knew; nobody could give any 
intelligence. All the boys knew was, that they had seen him 
tie his sledge to another large and splendid one, which drove 
down the street and out of the town. Nobody knew where 
he was; many sad tears were shed, and little Gerda wept 
long and bitterly; at last she said he must be dead; that 
he had been drowned in the river which flowed close to 
the town. O! those were very long and dismal winter 
evenings ! 

At last spring came with its warm sunshine. 

“ Kay is dead and gone!” said little Gerda. 

“"That I don’t believe,” said the Sunshine. 

“ Kay is dead and gone!” said she to the Swallows. 

“That we don’t believe,” said they ; and at last little Gerda 
did not think so any longer either. 

“TI put on my red shoes,” said she, one morning ; “ Kay 
has never seen pean and then I’ll go down to the river and 
ask there.” 

It was quite early: she kissed her old grandmother, who 


182 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


was still asleep, put on her red shoes, and went alone to the 
river. | 

“Ts it true that you have taken my little playfellow? I 
will make you a present of my red shoes, if you will give him 
back to me.” 

And, as it seemed to her, the blue waves nodded in a 
strange manner; then she took off her red shoes, the most 
precious things she possessed, and threw them both into the 
river. But they fell close to the bank, and the little waves 
bore them immediately to land ; it was as if the stream would 
not take what was dearest to her; for in reality it had not 
got little Kay: but Gerda thought that she had not thrown 
the shoes out far enough, so she clambered into a boat which 
lay among the rushes, went to the farthest end, and threw out 
the shoes. But the boat was not fastened, and the motion 
which she occasioned made it drift from the shore. She ob- 
served this, and hastened to get back ; but before she could 
do so, the boat was more than a yard from the land, and was 
gliding quickly onward. 

Little Gerda was very much frightened, and began to cry; 
but no one heard her except the Sparrows, and they could not 
carry her to land ; but they flew along the pank, and sang as 
if to comfort her, “ Here we are! here we are!” The boat 
drifted with the stream, little Gerda sat quite still without 
shoes, for they were swimming behind the boat, but could not 
reach it, because it went much faster than they did. 

The banks on both sides were beautiful ; lovely flowers, 
venerable trees, and slopes with sheep and cows, but not a 
human being was to be seen. 

“Perhaps the river will carry me to little Kay,” said she ; 
and then she grew less sad. She rose, and looked for many 
hours at the beautiful green banks. Presently she sailed by | 
a large cherry-orchard, where was a little cottage with curious 
red and blue windows ; it was thatched, and before it two 
wooden soldiers stood sentry, and presented arms when any 
One went past. 

Gerda called to them, for she thought they were alive ; but 
they, of course, did not answer. She came close to them, 
for the stream drifted the boat quite near the land. 


THE SNOW-QUEEN. 183 


Gerda called still louder, and an old woman then came out 
of the cottage, leaning upon a crooked stick. She had a 
large broad-brimmed hat on, painted with the most splendid 
flowers. | 

“Poor little child!” said the old Woman, “how did you 
get upon the large rapid river, to be driven about so in the 
wide world!” And then the old Woman went into the water, 
‘caught hold of the boat with her crooked stick, drew it to the 
bank, and lifted little Gerda out. 

And Gerda was so glad to be on dry land again : but she 
was rather afraid.of the strange old Woman. 

“But come and tell me who you are, and how you came 
here,” said she. 

And Gerda told her all; and the old Woman shook her 
head and said, “ A-hem! a-hem!” and when Gerda had told 
her everything, and asked her if she had not seen little Kay, 
the Woman answered that he had not passed there, but he no 
doubt would come ; and she told her not to be cast down, but 
taste her cherries, and look at her flowers, which were finer 
than any in a picture-book, each of which could tell a whole 
story. She then took Gerda by the hand, led her into the 
little cottage, and locked the door. 

The windows were very high up; the glass was red, blue, 
and green, and the sunlight shone through quite wondrously 
in all sorts of colors. On the table stood the most exquisite 
cherries, and Gerda ate as many as she chose, for she had 
permission to do so. While she was eating, the old Woman 
combed her hair with a golden comb, and her hair curled 
and shone with a lovely golden color around that sweet little 
face, which was so round and so like a rose. 

“T have often longed for such a dear little girl,” said the 
old Woman. ‘ Now you shall see how well we agree to- 
gether ;” and while she combed little Gerda’s hair, the child 
forgot her foster-brother Kay more and more, for the old 
Woman understood magic ; but she was no evil being, she 
only practiced witchcraft a little for her own private amuse- 
ment, and now she wanted very much to keep little Gerda. 
She therefore went out into the garden, stretched out her 
crooked stick towards the rose-bushes, which, beautifully as 


184 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


they were blowing, all sank into the earth, and no one could 
tell where they had stood. The old Woman feared that if 
Gerda should see the roses, she would then think of her own, 
would remember little Kay, and run away from her. 

She now led Gerda into the flower-garden. O, what odor 
and what loveliness was there! Every flower that one could 
think of, and of every season, stood there in fullest bloom ; 
no picture-book could be gayer or more beautiful. Gerda 
jumped for joy, and played till the sun set behind the tall 
cherry-tree : she then had a pretty bed, with a red silken 
coverlet filled with blue violets. She fell asleep, and had as 
pleasant dreams as ever a queen on her wedding-day. 

The next morning she went to play with the flowers in the 
warm sunshine, and thus passed away a day. Gerda knew 
every flower ; and, numerous-as they were, it still seemed to 
Gerda that one was wanting, though she did not know which. 
One day, while she was looking at the hat of the old Woman 
painted with flowers, the most beautiful of them all seemed to 
her to be a rose. The old Woman had forgotten to take it 
from her hat when she made the others vanish in the earth. 
But so it is when one’s thoughts are not collected. . “ What!” 
said Gerda; “are there no roses here?” and she ran about 
amongst the flower-beds, and looked, and looked, but there 
was not one to be found. She then sat down and wept ; but 
her hot tears fell just where a rose-bush had sunk ; and when 
her warm tears watered the ground, the tree shot up suddenly 
as fresh and blooming as when it had been swallowed up. 
Gerda kissed the roses, thought of her own dear roses at 
home, and with them of little Kay. 

“O, how long I have stayed!” said the little girl, “TI 
intended to look for Kay! Don’t you know where he is?” 
asked she of the Roses. “Do you think he is dead and 
gone ?” 

“Dead he certainly is not,’ said the Roses. “We have 
been in the earth where all the dead are, but Kay was not 
there.” ' 

“Many thanks!” said little Gerda ; and she went to the 
other flowers, looked into their cups, and asked, “ Don’t you 
know where little Kay is?” 


THE SNOW-QUEEN. I 85 


But every flower stood in the sunshine, and dreamed its 
own fairy-tale or its own story; and they all told her very 
many things, but not one knew anything of Kay. 

Well, what did the Tiger-lily say? 

‘“‘Hearest thou not the drum? Bum! bum! those are the 
only two tones. Always bum! bum! Hark to the plaintive 
song of the old woman! to the call of the priests! The 
Hindoo woman in her long robe stands upon the funeral pile ; 
the flames rise around her and her dead husband, but the 
Hindoo woman thinks on the living one in the surrounding 
circle ; on him whose eyes burn hotter than the flames — on 
him, the fire of whose eyes pierces her heart more than the 
flames which soon will: burn her body to ashes. Can the 
heart’s flame die in the flame of the funeral pile?” 

“JT don’t understand that at all,” said little Gerda. 

“That is my story,” said the Lily. 

What did the Convolvulus say ? 

‘Projecting over a narrow mountain-path there hangs an 
old feudal castle. Thick evergreens grow on the dilapidated 
walls and around the altar, where a lovely maiden is standing: 
she bends over the railing and looks out upon the rose. No 
fresher rose hangs on the branches than she ; no apple-blos- 
som carried away by the wind is more buoyant! How her 
splendid silken robe is rustling ! 

‘olswhemotiyet come?’ ” 

“Ts it Kay that you mean? ” asked little Gerda. 

“J am speaking about my story—- about my dream,” an- 
swered the Convolvulus. 

What did the Snow-drops say? 

“‘ Between the trees a long board is hanging — it is a swing. 
Two little girls are sitting in it, and swing themselves back- 
ward and forward: theit frocks are as white as snow, and 
long green silk ribbons flutter from their bonnets. ‘Their 
brother, who is older than they are, stands up in the swing ; 
he twines his arms round the cords to hold himself fast, for 
in one hand he has a little cup, and in the other a clay pipe. 
He is blowing soap-bubbles. ‘The swing moves, and the bub- 
bles float in charming, changing colors ; the last is still hang- 
ing to the end of the pipe, and rocks in the breeze. The 


186 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


swing moves. The little black dog, as light as a soap-bubble, 
jumps up on his hind legs to try to get into the swing. It 
moves, the dog falls down, barks, and is angry. ‘They tease 
him ; the bubble bursts! A swing —a bursting bubble — 
such is my song! ” 

““What you relate may be very pretty, but you tell it in so 
melancholy a manner, and do not mention Kay.” 

What do the Hyacinths say? 

“There were once upon a time three sisters, quite trans- 
parent and very beautiful. The robe of the one was red, that 
of the second blue, and that of the third white. They danced 
hand in hand beside the calm lake in the clear moonshine. 
They were not elfin maidens, but mortal children. A sweet 
fragrance was smelt, and the maidens vanished in the wood ; 
the fragrance grew stronger —three coffins, and in them 
three lovely maidens, passed out of the forest and across the 
lake: the shining glow-worms flew around like little floating 
lights. Do the dancing maidens sleep, or are they dead? 
The odor of the flowers says they are corpses ; the evening 
bell tolls for the dead!” 

“You make me quite sad;” said: little Gerda, ~* I>canmay 
help thinking of the dead maidens. O! is little Kay really 
dead? The Roses have been in the earth, and they say no.” 

“Ding, dong!” sounded the Hyacinth bells. ‘ We do not 
toll for little Kay: we do not know him. That is our way of 
singing, the only one we have.” 

And Gerda went to the Ranunculuses, that looked forth 
from among the shining green leaves. 

“You are a little bright sun!” said Gerda. “Tell me if 
you know where I can find my playfellow.” 

And the Ranunculus shone brightly, and looked again at 
Gerda. What song could the Ranunculus sing? It was one 
that said nothing about Kay either. 

“In a small court the bright sun was shining in the first 
days of spring. The beams glided down the white walls of 
a neighbor’s house, and close by the fresh yellow flowers were 
growing, shining like gold in the warm sun-rays. An old 
grandmother was sitting in the air; her granddaughter, the 
poor and lovely servant just come for a short visit. She 


THE SNOW-QUEEN. 187 


knows her grandmother. ‘There was gold, pure, virgin gold in 
that blessed kiss. ‘There, that is my little story,” said the 
Ranunculus. 

“My poor old grandmother!” sighed Gerda. “Yes, she 
is longing for me, no doubt ; she is sorrowing for me, as she 
did for little Kay. But I will soon come home, and then I 
will bring Kay with me. It is of no use asking the flowers ; 
they only know their own old rhymes, and can tell me noth- 
ing.” And she tucked up her frock, to enable her to run 
quicker ; but the Narcissus gave her a knock on the leg, just 
as she was going-to jump over it. So she stood still, looked 
at the long, yellow flower, and asked, “You perhaps know 
something :” and she bent down to the Narcissus. And 
what did it say? 

“TI can see myself -—I can see myself! O, how odorous 
I am! Up in the little garret there stands half-dressed a 
little Dancer. She stands now on one leg, now on both ; she 
despises the whole world; yet she lives only in imagination. 
She pours water out of the tea-pot over a piece of stuff which 
she holds in her hand; it is the bodice: cleanliness is a fine 
thing. The white dress is hanging on the hook; it was 
washed in the tea-pot, and dried on the roof. She puts it on, 
ties a saffron-colored kerchief round her neck, and then the 
gown looks whiter. I can see myself— I can see myself!” 

“That's nothing to me,” said little Gerda. “That does 
not concern me.” And then off she ran to the further end of 
the garden. 

The gate was locked, but she shook the rusted bolt till it 
‘was loosened, and the gate opened ; and little Gerda ran off 
barefooted into the wide world. She looked round her thrice, 
but no one followed her. At last she could run no longer; 
she sat down on a large stone, and when she looked about 
her, she saw that the summer had passed ; it was late in the 
autumn, but that one could not remark in the beautiful gar- 
den, where there was always sunshine, and where there were 
flowers the whole year round. 

“ Dear me, how long I have stayed!” said Gerda. “ Au- 
tumn is come. I must not rest any longer.” And she got 
up to go further. . 


188 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


O, bow tender and wearied her little feet were! All 
around it looked so cold and raw; the long willow-leaves 
were quite yellow, and the fog dripped from them like water ; 
one leaf fell after the other: the sloes only stood full of fruit 
which set one’s teeth on edge. O, how dark and comfortless 
it was in the dreary world! 


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FOURTH STORY. 
The Prince and Frincess. 


Gerda was obliged to rest herself again, when, exactly 
opposite to her, a large raven came hopping over the white 
snow. He had long been looking at Gerda and shaking his 
head ; and now he said, “Caw! caw!” Good day! good 
day! He could not say it better ; but he felt a sympathy for 
the little girl, and asked her where she was going all alone. 
The word “ alone ” Gerda understood quite well, and felt how 
much was expressed by it; so she told the Raven her whole 
history, and asked if he had not seen Kay. 

The Raven nodded very gravely, and said, “It may be — 
it may be!” 

“What! do you really think so?” cried the little girl ; and 
she nearly squeezed the Raven to death, so much did she 
kiss him. 

“Gently, gently,” said the Raven. “TI think I know; I 


THE SNOW-QUEEN. 189 


think that it may be little Kay. But now he has forgotten you 
for the Princess.” 

“ Does he live with a princess?” asked Gerda. 

““ Yes, — listen,” said the Raven ; “but it will be difficult 
for me to speak your language. If you understand the raven 
language, I can tell you better.” 

“No, I have not learnt it,” said Gerda; “but my grand- 
mother understands it, and she can speak gibberish too. I 
wish I had learnt it.” 

“No matter,” said the Raven; “TI will tell you as well as 
I can; however, it will be bad enough.” And then he told 
all he knew. 

“In the kingdom where we now are there lives a princess, 
who is extraordinarily clever ; for she has read all the news- 
papers in the whole world, and has forgotten them again, — 
so clever is she. She was lately, it is said, sitting on her 
throne, — which is not so very amusing, after all, — when she 
began humming an old tune, and it was just ‘O, why should 
I not be married?’ ‘That song is not without its meaning,’ 
said she, and so then she was determined to marry ; but she 
would have a husband who knew how to give an answer when 
he was spoken to, — not one who looked only as if he were a 
great personage, for that is so tiresome. She then had all the 
ladies of the court drummed together ; and when they heard 
her intention, all were well pleased, and said, ‘We are quite 
glad to hear it; it is the very thing we were thinking of.’ 
You may believe every word I say,” said the Raven, “ for I 
have a tame sweetheart that hops about in the palace quite 
free, and it was she who told me all this. 

“The newspapers appeared forthwith with a border of 
hearts and the initials of the Princess ; and therein you might 
read that every good-looking young man was at liberty to 
come to the palace and speak to the Princess ; and he who 
spoke in such wise as showed he felt himself at home there, 
that one the Princess would choose for her husband. 

“Yes — yes,” said the Raven, “you may believe it; it is 
as true as I am sitting here. People came in crowds ; there 
was a crush and a hurry, but no one was successful either on 
the first or second day. ‘They could all talk well enough 


= 


IgO ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


when they were out in the street; but as soon as they came 
inside the palace-gates, and saw the guard richly dressed in 
silver, and the lackeys in gold, on the staircase, and the large 
illuminated saloons, then they were abashed ; and when they 
stood before the throne on which the Princess was sitting, all 
they could do was to repeat the last word they had uttered, 
and to hear it again did not interest her very much. It was 
just as if the people within were under a charm, and had 
fallen into a trance till they came out again into the street ; 
for then, — O, then, they could chatter enough. ‘There was 
a whole row of them standing from the town-gates to the 
palace. I was there myself to look,” said the Raven. “ ‘They 
grew hungry and thirsty : but from the palace they got noth- 
ing whatever, not even a glass of water. Some of the clever- 
est, it is true, had taken bread and butter with them ; but 
none shared it with his neighbor, for each thought, ‘Let him 
look hungry, and then the Princess won’t have him.’ ” 

“But Kay — little Kay,” said Gerda, “when did he come? 
Was he among the number?” 

“Patience, patience ; we are just come to him. It was on 
the third day, when a little personage, without horse or equi- 
page, came marching night boldly up to the palace ; his eyes 
shone like yours, he had beautiful long hair, but his clothes 
were very shabby.” 

“That was Kay,” cried Gerda, with a voice of delight. 
“QO, now I’ve found him!” and she clapped her hands for joy. 
“He had a little knapsack at his back,” said the Raven. 

“No, that was certainly his sledge,” said Gerda; “ for 
when he went away he took his sledge with him.” 

“That may be,” said the Raven; “I did not examine him 
so minutely: but I know from my tame sweetheart that when 
he came into the court-yard of the palace, and saw the body- 
guard in silver, the lackeys on the staircase, he was not the 
least abashed ; he nodded, and said to them, ‘It must be 
very tiresome to stand on the stairs ; for my part, I shall go 
in.’ The saloons were gleaming with lustres ; privy-coun- 
cilors and excellencies were walking about barefoot, and wore 
gold keys ; it was enough to make anyone feel uncomfortable. 
His boots creaked, too, so loudly ; but still he was not at all 
afraid’? 


THE SNOW-QUEEN. IQI 


“That’s Kay, for certain,’ said Gerda. “I know he had 
on new boots; I have heard them creaking in grandmamma’s 
room.” 

“Yes, they creaked,” said the Raven. “And on he went 
boldly up to the Princess, who was sitting on a pearl as large 
as a spinning-wheel. All the ladies of the court, with their at- 
tendants and attendants’ attendants, and all the cavaliers, with 
their gentlemen and gentlemen’s gentlemen, stood round; and 
the nearer they stood to the door, the prouder they looked. It 
was hardly possible to look at the gentleman’s gentleman, so 
very haughtily did he stand in the doorway.” 

“Jt must have been terrible,’ said little Gerda. “And 
did Kay get the Princess? ” 

“Were I not a Raven, I should have taken the Princess 
myself, although I am promised. It is said he spoke as well 
as I speak when I talk raven language; this I learned from 
my tame sweetheart. He was bold and nicely behaved ; he 
had not come to woo the Princess, but only to hear her wis- 
dom. She pleased him, and he pleased her.” 

“Yes, yes ; for certain that was Kay,” said Gerda. “He 
was so clever ; he could reckon fractions in his head. O, 
won't you take me to the palace ? ” 

“That is very easily said,” answered the Raven. “ But 
how are we to manage it? I'll speak to my tame sweetheart 
about it; she must advise us ; forso much I must tell you, 
such a little girl as you are will never get permission to 
enter: 

“O yesI shall,” said Gerda; “when Kay hears that I am 
here, he will come out directly to fetch me.” 

““Wait for me here on these steps,” said the Raven. He 
moved his head backward and forward, and flew away. 

The evening was closing in when the Raven returned. 
“Caw! caw!” said he. “She sends you her compliments ; 
and here is a roll for you. She took it out of the kitchen, 
where there is bread enough. You are hungry, no doubt. 
It is not possible for you to enter the palace, for you are 
barefoot ; the guards in silver and the lackeys in gold 
would not allow it; but do not cry, you shall come in still. 
My sweetheart knows a little back-stair that leads to the 


99 


192 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


bed-chamber, and she knows where she can get the key of 
At 

And they went into the garden by the large avenue, where 
one leaf was falling after the other ; and when the lights in 
the palace had all gradually disappeared, the Raven led little 
Gerda to the backdoor, which stood half open. 

O how Gerda’s heart beat with anxiety and longing! It 
was just as if she had been about to do something wrong ; 
and yet she only wanted to know if little Kay was there. 
Yes, he must be there. She called to mind his intelligent 
eyes and his long hair so vividly, she could quite see him as 
he used to laugh when they were sitting under the roses at 
home. “He will, no doubt, be glad to see you, —to hear 
what a long way you have come for his sake ; to know how 
unhappy all at home were when he did not come back.” 

O what a fright and a joy it was! 

They were now on the stairs. A single lamp was burning 
there ; and on the floor stood the tame Raven, turning her 
head on every side and looking at Gerda, who bowed as her 
grandmother had taught her to do. 

“My intended has told me so much good of you, my dear 
young lady,” said the tame Raven. “ Your tale is very affect- 
ing. If you will take the lamp, I will go before. We will go 
straight on, for we shall meet no one.” 

“T think there is somebody just behind us,” said Gerda ; 
and something rushed past: it was like shadowy figures on 
the wall ; horses with flowing manes and thin legs, huntsmen, 
ladies and gentlemen on horseback. 

“They are only dreams,” said the Raven. ‘They come 
to fetch the thoughts of the high personages to the chase: ’tis 
well, for now you can observe them in bed all the better. 
But let me find, when you enjoy honor and distinction, that 
you possess a grateful heart.” 

“Tut! that’s not worth talking about,” said the Raven of 
the woods. 

They now entered the first saloon, which was of rose- 
colored satin, with artificial flowers on the wall. Here the 
dreams were rushing past, but they hastened by so quickly 
that Gerda could not see the high personages. One hall was 


THE SNOW-QUEEN. 3 193 


more magnificent than the other ; one might indeed well be 
abashed ; and at last they came into the bed-chamber. ‘The 
ceiling of the room resembled a large palm-tree, with leaves 
of glass, of costly glass ; and in the middle, from a thick gol- 
den stem, hung two beds, each of which resembled a lily. 
One was white, and in this lay the Princess: the other was 
red, and it was here that Gerda was to look for little Kay. 
She bent back one of the red leaves, and saw a brown neck 
—Q, that was Kay! She called him quite loud by name, 
held the lamp toward him—the dreams rushed back again 
into the chamber — he awoke, turned his head, and —it was 
not little Kay ! 

The Prince was only like him about the neck ; but he was 
young and handsome. And out of the white lily leaves the 
Princess peeped too, and asked what was the matter. Then 
little Gerda cried and told her her whole history, and all that 
the Ravens had done for her. 

“Poor little thing!” said the Prince and the Princess. 
They praised the Ravens very much, and told them they were 
not at all angry with them, but they were not to do so again. 
However, they should have a reward. 

“Will you fly about here at liberty,” asked the Princess ; 
“or. would you like to have a fixed appointment as court 
ravens, with all the broken bits from the kitchen ? ” 

And both the Ravens nodded, and begged for a fixed ap- 
pointment ; for they thought of their old age, and said, “it 
was a good thing to have a provision for their old days.” 

And the Prince got up and let Gerda sleep in his bed, and 
more than this he could not do. She folded her little hands, 
and thought, “ How good men and animals are!” and she 
then fell asleep and slept soundly. All the dreams flew in 
again, and they now looked like the angels; they drew a 
little sledge, in which little Kay sat and nodded his head ; 
but the whole was only a dream, and therefore it all vanished 
as soon as she awoke. 

The next day she was dressed from head to foot in silk 
and velvet. They offered to let her stay at the palace, and 
lead a happy life ; but she begged to have a little carriage 
with a horse in front, and for a small pair of shoes: then, 

13 


194 ANDERSEN'S WONDER STORIES. 


she said, she would again go forth in the wide world and look 
for Kay. 

Shoes and a muff were given her ; she was, too, dressed 
very nicely ; and when she was about to set off, a new car- 
riage stopped before the door. It was of pure gold, and the 
arms of the Prince and Princess shone like a star upon it; 
the coachman, the footmen, and the outriders, for outriders 
were there too, all wore golden crowns. The Prince and the 
Princess assisted her into the carriage themselves, and wished 
her all success. ‘The Raven of the woods, who was now mar- 
ried, accompanied her for the first three miles. He sat beside 
Gerda, for he could not bear riding backward; the other 
Raven stood in the doorway, and flapped her wings; she 
could not accompany Gerda, because she suffered from head- 
ache since she had had a fixed appointment and ate so much. 
The carriage was lined inside with sugar-plums, and in the 
seats were fruits and gingerbread. 

“ Farewell! farewell!” cried Prince and Princess; and 
Gerda wept, and the Raven wept. Thus passed the first 
miles ; and then the Raven bade her farewell, and this was 
the most painful separation of all. He flew into a tree, and 
beat his black wings as long as he could see the carriage, that 
shone from afar like a sunbeam. 


FIFTH STORY. 


The Little Robber-maiden. 


‘They drove through the dark wood ; but the carriage shone 
like a torch, and it dazzled the eyes of the robbers, so that 
they could not bear to look at it. 
“Tis gold! ’tis gold!” cried they; and they rushed for- 

ward, seized the horses, knocked down the little postilion, 
the coachman, and the servants, and pulled little Gerda out 
of the carriage. 

“How plump, how beautiful she is! She must have been 
fed on nut-kernels,” said the old female Robber, who had a 
long, scrubby beard, and bushy eyebrows that hung down 
over her eyes: “she is as good as a fatted lamb! how nice 
she will be!” And then she drew out a knife, the blade of 
which shone so that it was quite dreadful to behold. 

“O!” cried the woman at the same moment. She had 
been bitten in the ear by her own little daughter, who hung 
at her back ; and who was so wild and unmanageable that 
it was quite amusing to see her. “ You naughty child!” said 
the mother ; and now she had not time to kill Gerda. 


I 96 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORES. 


“She shall play with me,” said the little Robber-child: 
“she shall give me her muff, and her pretty frock ; she shall 
sleep inmy bed!” And then she gave her mother another — 
bite, so that she jumped, and ran round with the pain ; and 
the robbers laughed, and said, ‘ Look how she is dancing 
with the little one!” 

‘“‘T will go into the carriage,” said the little Robber-maiden ; 
and she would have her will, for she was very spoiled, and 
very headstrong. She and Gerda got in; and then away 
they drove over the stumps of felled trees, deeper and deeper 
into the woods. The little Robber-maiden was as tall as 
Gerda, but stronger, broader-shouldered, and of dark com- 
plexion ; her eyes were quite black ; they looked almost mel- 
ancholy. She embraced little Gerda, and said, “They shall 
not kill you as long as I am not displeased with you. You 
are, doubtless, a princess?” 

“No,” said little Gerda; who then related all that had 
happened to her, and how much she cared about httle Kay. 

The little Robber-maiden looked at her with a serious air, 
nodded her head slightly, and said, “ They shall not kill you, 
even if I am angry with you: then I will do it myseif;” and 
she dried Gerda’s eyes, and put both her hands in the hand- 
some muff, which was so soft and warm. 

_ At length the carriage stopped. They were in the midst 
of the court-yard of a robber’s castle. It was full of cracks 
from top to bottom; and out of the openings magpies and 
rooks were flying; and the great bull dogs, each of which 
looked as if he could swallow a man, jumped up, but they 
did not bark, for that was forbidden. 

In the midst of the large, old, smoking hall burnt a great 
fire on the stone floor. The smoke disappeared under the 
stones, and had to seek its own egress. In an immense 
cauldron soup was boiling ; and rabbits and hares were being | 
roasted on a spit. | 

“You shall sleep with me to-night, with all my animals,” 
said the little Robber-maiden. They had something to eat 
and drink ; and then went into a corner, where straw and 
carpets were lying. Beside them, on laths and perches, sat 
nearly a hundred pigeons, all asleep, seemingly ; but yet they 


THE SNOW-QUEEN. 197 


moved a little when the Robber-maiden came. “They are 
all mine,” said she ; at the same time seizing one that was 
next her by the legs, and shaking it so that its wings fluttered. 
“Kiss it!” cried the little girl, and flung the pigeon in Ger- 
da’s face. ‘‘ Up there is the rabble of the wood,” continued 
she, pointing to several laths which were fastened before a 
hole high up in the wall; “that’s the rabble ; they would all 
fly away immediately, if they were not well fastened in. And 
here is my dear old Bac ;” and she laid hold of the horns of 
a reindeer, that had a bright copper ring round its neck, and 
was tethered tothe spot. ‘“ We are obliged to lock this fel- 
low in, too, or he would make his escape. Every evening I 
tickle his neck with my sharp knife; he is so frightened at 
it!” and the little girl drew forth a long knife from a crack 
in the wall, and let it glide over the reindeer’s neck. The 
poor animal kicked ; the girl laughed, and pulled Gerda into 
bed with her. 

“Do you intend to keep your knife while you sleep?” 
asked Gerda, looking at it rather fearfully. 

“T always sleep with the knife,” said the little Robber- 
maiden: “there is no knowing what may happen. But tell 
me now, once more, all about little Kay; and why you have 
started off in the wide world alone.” And Gerda related all, 
from the very beginning: the Wood-pigeons cooed above in 
their cage, and the others slept. ‘The little Robber-maiden 
wound her arm round Gerda’s neck, held the knife in the 
other hand, and snored so loud that everybody could hear 
her ; but Gerda could not close her eyes, for she did not 
know whether she was to live or die. The Robbers: sat 
round the fire, sang and drank ; and the old female Robber 
jumped about so, that it was dreadful for Gerda to see her. 

Then the Wood-pigeons said, ‘Coo! coo! we have seen 
little Kay! A white hen carries his sledge ; he himself sat 
in the carriage of the Snow-Queen, who passed here, down 
just over the wood, as we lay in our nest. She blew upon 
us young ones, and all died except we two. Coo! coo!” 

“What is that you say up there?” cried little Gerda. 
“Where did the Snow-Queen go to? Do you know anything 
about it?” 


198 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


“She is no doubt gone to Lapland; for there are always 
snow and ice there. Only ask the Reindeer, who is tethered 
here.” 

“ Aye, ice and snow indeed! There it is glorious and beau- 
tiful!”’ said the Reindeer. ‘One can spring about in the 
large, shining valleys! The Snow-Queen has her summer- 
tent there ; but her fixed abode is high up towards the North 
Pole, on the island called Spitzbergen.” 

“© Kay! poor little Kay!” sighed Gerda. 

“Do you choose to be quiet?” said the Robber-maiden. 
“Tf you don’t, I shall make you.” 

In the morning Gerda told her all that the Wood-pigeons 
had said; and the little maiden looked very serious, but she 
nodded her head, and said, “That’s no matter — that’s no 
matter. Do you know where Lapland lies?” asked she of 
the Reindeer. 

“ Who should know better than I?” said the animal ; and 
his eyes rolled in his head. “Iwas born and bred there ; 
there I leapt about on the fields of snow.” 

“ Listen,’ said the Robber-maiden to Gerda. “You see 
that the men are gone ; but my mother is still here, and will 
remain. However, towards morning she takes a draught out 
of the large flask, and then she sleeps a little: then I will do 
something for you.” She now jumped out of bed, flew to her 
mother ; with her arms round her neck, and pulling her by 
the beard, said, “‘Good-morrow, my own sweet nanny-goat 
of a mother.” And her mother took hold of her nose, and 
pinched it till it was red and blue ; but this was all done out 
of pure love. 

When the mother had taken a sup at her flask, and was 
having a nap, the little Robber-maiden went to the Reindeer, 
and said, “I should very much like to give you still many a 
tickling with the sharp knife, for then you are so amusing ; 
however, I will untether you, and help you out, so that you 
may get back to Lapland. But you must make good use of 
your legs; and take this little girl for me to the palace of 
the Snow-Queen, where her playfellow is. You have heard, 
I suppose, all she said ; for she spoke loud enough, and you 
were listening.” 


THE SNOW-QUEEN. 199 


The Reindeer gave a bound for joy. The Robber-maiden 
lifted up little Gerda, and took the precaution to bind her 
fast on the Reindeer’s back; she even gave her a small 
cushion to sit on. “ Here are your worsted leggins, for it 
will be cold ; but the muff I shall keep for myself, for it is so 
very pretty. But I do not wish you to be cold. Hereisa 
pair of lined gloves of my mother’s ; they just reach up to 
your elbow. On with them!. Now you look about the hands 
just like my ugly old mother!” 

And Gerda wept for joy. 

“TI can’t bear. to see you fretting,” said the little Robber- 
maiden. ‘“ ‘This is just the time when you ought to look 
pleased. Here are two loaves and a ham for you, so that 
you won't starve.” The bread and the meat were fastened to 
the Reindeer’s back ; the little maiden opened the door, 
called in all the dogs, and then with her knife cut the rope 
that fastened the animal, and said to him, “ Now off with 
you ; but take good care of the little girl!” 

_ And Gerda stretched out her hands with the large wadded 
gloves toward the Robber-maiden, and said, “ Farewell!” 
and the Reindeer flew on over bush and bramble, through 
the great wood, over moor and heath, as fast as he could go. 

“Ddsa! ddsa!” was heard in the sky. It was just as if 
somebody was sneezing. 

“These are my old northern lights,” said the Reindeer ; 
“look how they gleam!” And on he now sped still quicker, 
— day and night on he went: the loaves were consumed, and 
the ham too ; and now they were in Lapland. 


aera 


— = -m- 


ee oe 
Sa 


SIXTH STORY. 
The Lapland Woman and the Finland Woman. 


Suddenly they stopped before a little house, which looked 
very miserable: the roof reached to the ground ; and the 
door was so low, that the family was obliged to creep upon 
their stomachs when they went in or out. Nobody was at 
home except an old Lapland woman, who was dressing fish 
by the light of an oil lamp. And the Reindeer told her the 
whole of Gerda’s history, but first of all, his own ; for that 
seemed to him of much greater importance. Gerda was so 
chilled that she could not speak. 

“Poor thing,” said the Lapland woman, “ you have far to 
run still. You have more than a hundred miles to go before 
you get to Finland ; there the Snow-Queen has her country- 
house, and burns blue lights every evening. I will give you 
a few words from me, which I will write on a dried haberdine, 
for paper I have none; this you can take with you to the 
Finland woman, and she will be able to give you more infor- 
~mation than I can.” : 

When Gerda had warmed herself, and had eaten and drunk, 
the Lapland woman wrote a few words on a dried haberdine, 
begged Gerda to take care of them, put her on the Reindeer, 
bound her fast, and away sprang the animal. “ Ddsa! 


THE SNOW-QUEEN. 201 


ddsa!” was again heard in the air; the most charming blue 
lights burned the whole night in the sky, and at last they 
came to Finland. ‘They knocked at the chimney of the Fin- 
land woman ; for as to a door, she had none. 

There was such a heat inside that the Finland woman 
herself went about almost naked. She was diminutive and 
dirty. She immediately loosened little Gerda’s clothes, pulled 
off her thick gloves and boots ; for otherwise the heat would 
have been too great; and after laying a piece of ice on the 
Reindeer’s head, read what was written on the _ fish-skin. 
She read it three times ; she then knew it by heart ; so she 
put the fish into the cupboard, — for it might very well be 
eaten, and she never threw anything away. 

Then the Reindeer related his own story first, and after- 
wards that of little Gerda; and the Finland woman winked 
her eyes, but said nothing. 

“You are so clever,” said the Reindeer : “ you can, I know, 
twist all the winds of the world together in a knot. If the 
seaman loosens one knot, then he has a good wind; if a 
second, then it blows pretty stiffly ; if he undoes the third 
and fourth, then it rages so that the forests are upturned. 
Will you give the little maiden a potion, that she may possess 
the strength of twelve men, and vanquish the Snow-Queen ?” 

“The strength of twelve men!” said the Finland woman ; 
“much good that would be!” ‘Then she went to a cupboard, 
and drew out a large skin rolled up. When she had unrolled 
it, strange characters were to be seen written thereon ; and 
the Finland woman read at such a rate, that the perspiration 
trickled down her forehead. But the Reindeer begged so 
hard for little Gerda, and Gerda looked so imploringly with 
tearful eyes at the Finland woman, that she winked and drew 
the Reindeer aside into a corner, where they whispered to- _ 
gether, while the animal got some fresh ice put on his head. 

“Tis true little Kay is at the Snow-Queen’s and finds 
everything there quite to his taste ; and he thinks it the very 
best place in the world: but the reason of that is, he has a 
splinter of glass in his eye and in his heart. These must be 
got out first ; otherwise he will never go back to mankind, 
and the Snow-Queen will retain her power over him.” 


202 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


“ But can you give little Gerda nothing to take which will 
endue her with power over the whole?” 

“T can give her no more power than what she has already. 
Don’t you see how great it is? Don’t you see how men and 
animals are forced to serve her ; how well she gets through 
the world barefooted? She must not hear of her power from 
us: that power lies in her heart, because she is a sweet and 
innocent child! If she cannot get to the Snow-Queen by 
herself, and rid little Kay of the glass, we cannot help her. 
Two miles hence the garden of the: Snow-Queen begins ; 
thither you may carry the little girl, Set her down by the 
large bush with red berries, standing in the snow ; don’t stay 
talking, but hasten back as fast as possible.” And now the 
I‘inland woman placed little Gerda on the Reindeer’s back, 
and off he ran with all imaginable speed. 

“O! I have not got my boots! I have not brought my 
gloves!” cried little Gerda. She remarked she was without 
them from the cutting frost ; but the Reindeer dared not 
stand still; on he ran till he came to the great bush with 
the red berries ; and there he set Gerda down, kissed her 
mouth, while large, bright tears flowed from the animal’s eyes, 
and then back he went as fast as possible. There stood poor 
Gerda now, without shoes or Bovis in the very middle of 
dreadful, icy Finland. 

She ran on as fast as she could. There then came a 
whole regiment of snow-flakes, but they did not fall from 
above, and they were quite bright and shining from the 
Aurora Borealis. ‘The flakes ran along the ground, and the 
nearer they came the larger they grew. Gerda well remem- 
bered how large and strange the snow-flakes appeared when 
she once saw them through a magnifying-glass ; but now 
they were large and terrific in another manner — they were 
all alive. ‘They were the outposts of the Snow-Queen. They 
had the most wondrous shapes ; some looked like large ugly 
porcupines ; others like snakes knotted together, with their 
heads sticking out; and others, again, like small fat bears, 
with the hair standing on end: all were of dazzling whiteness 
— all were living snow-flakes. 

Little Gerda repeated the Lord’s Prayer. The cold was 


THE SNOW-QUEEN. 203 


so intense that she could see her own breath, which came 
It grew thicker and thicker, 


like smoke out of her mouth. 
and took the form of lttle angels, that grew more and more 


when they touched the earth. All had helms on their heads, 
and lances and shields in their hands; they increased in 
numbers ; and when Gerda had finished the Lord’s Prayer, 
she was surrounded by a whole legion. They thrust at the 
horrid snow-flakes with their spears, so that they flew into a 
thousand pieces ; and little Gerda walked on bravely and in 
security. The angels patted her hands and feet ; and then 
she felt the cold Jess, and went on quickly towards the palace 
of the Snow Queen. 

’ But now we shall see how Kay fared. He never thought 
of Gerda, and least of all that she was standing before the 


palace. 


ae a 


=~ We 


ae ee, 
= FJ 


my 


SEVENTH STORY. 


What took place in the Palace of the Snow-Queen, and what 
happened afterward. 


The walls of the palace were of driving snow, and the win- 
There were more than a 


dows and doors of cutting winds. 
hundred halls there, according as the snow was driven by 


204 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


the winds. The largest was many miles in extent ; all were 
lighted up by the powerful Aurora Borealis, and all were so 
large, so empty, so icy cold, and so resplendent! Mirth 
never reigned there ; there was never even a little bear-ball, 
with the storm for music, while the polar bears went on their 
hind-legs and showed off their steps. Never a little tea-party 
of white young lady foxes ; vast, cold, and empty were the 
halls of the Snow-Queen. The northern lights shone with 
such precision that one could tell exactly when they were at 
their highest or lowest degree of brightness. In the middle 
of the empty, endless hall of snow was a frozen lake ; it was 
cracked in a thousand pieces, but each piece was so like the 
other, that it seemed the work of a cunning artificer. In the 
middle of this lake sat the Snow-Queen when she was at 
home ; and then she said she was sitting in the Mirror of 
Understanding, and that this was the'only one and the best 
thing in the world. 

Little Kay was quite blue, yes, nearly black with cold ; but 
he did not observe it, for she had kissed away all feeling of 
cold from his body, and his heart was a lump of ice. He 
was dragging along some pointed flat pieces of ice, which he 
laid together in all possible ways, for he wanted to make 
something with them ; just as we have little flat pieces of 
wood to make geometrical figures with, called the Chinese 
Puzzle. Kay made all sorts of figures, the most complicated, 
for it was an ice-puzzle for the understanding. In his eyes 
the figures were extraordinarily beautiful, and of the utmost 
importance ; for the bit of glass which was in his eye caused 
this. He found whole figures which represented a written 
word ; but he never could manage to represent just the word 
he wanted — that word was “ Eternity ;” and the Snow- 
Queen had said, “If you can discover that figure, you shall 
be your own master, and I will make you a present of the 
whole world and a pair of new skates.” But he could not 
find it out. | 

“T am going now to the warm lands,” said the Snow- 
Queen. “I must have a look down into the black cauldrons.” 
It was the volcanoes Vesuvius and Etna that she meant. “I 
will just give them a coating of white, for that is as it ought 


THE SNOW-QUEEN. 205 


to be ; besides, it is good for the oranges and the grapes.” 
And then away she flew, and Kay sat quite alone in the 
empty halls of ice that were miles long, and looked at the 
blocks of ice, and thought and thought till his skull was 
almost cracked. There he sat quite benumbed and motion- 
less; one would have imagined he was frozen to death. 

Suddenly little Gerda stepped through the great portal 
into the palace. The gate was formed of cutting winds ; but 
Gerda repeated her evening prayer, and the winds were laid 
as though they slept ; and the little maiden entered the vast, 
empty, cold halls. There she beheld Kay: she recognized 
him, flew to embrace him, and cried out, her arms firmly 
holding him the while, “Kay, sweet little Kay! Have I 
_then found you at last ?” 

But he sat quite still, benumbed and cold ‘Then little 
Gerda shed burning tears; and they fell on his bosom, they 
penetrated to his heart, they thawed the lumps of ice, and 
consumed the splinters of the looking-glass ; he looked at 
her, and she sang the hymn : — 


“The rose in the valley is blooming so sweet, 
The Child Jesus is there the children to greet.” 


Hereupon Kay burst into tears ; he wept so much that the 
splinter rolled out of his eye, and he recognized her, and 
shouted, “Gerda, sweet little Gerda! where have you been 
so long? And where have I been?” He looked round him. 
“ How cold it is here!” said he: “how empty and cold!” 
And he held fast by Gerda, who laughed and wept for joy. 
It was so beautiful, that even the blocks of ice danced about 
for joy ; and when they were tired and laid themselves down, 
they formed exactly the letters which the Snow-Queen had 
told him to find out ; so now he was his own master, and he 
would have the whole world and a pair of new skates into 
the bargain. 

Gerda kissed his cheeks, and they grew quite blooming ; 
she kissed his eyes, and they shone like her own ; she kissed 
his hands and feet, and he was again well and merry. The 
Snow-Queen might come back as soon as she liked ; there 
stood his discharge written in resplendent masses of ice. 


206 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


They took each other by the hand, and wandered forth 
out of the large hall; they talked of their old grandmother, - 
and of the roses upon the roof; and wherever they went, the 
winds ceased raging, and the sun burst forth. And when 
they reached the bush with the red berries, they found the 
Reindeer waiting for them. He had brought another, a 
young one, with him, whose udder was filled with milk, which 
he gave to the little ones, and kissed their lips. ‘They then 
carried Kay and Gerda, — first to the Finland woman, where 
they warmed themselves in the warm room, and learned what 
they were to do on their journey home ; and then they went 
to the Lapland woman, who made some new clothes for them 
and repaired their sledges. 

The Reindeer and the young hind leaped along beside 
them, and accompanied them to the boundary of the country. 
Here the first vegetation peeped forth ; here Kay and Gerda 
. took leave of the Lapland woman. “Farewell! farewell !” 
said they all. And the first green buds appeared, the first 
little birds began to chirrup; and out of the wood came, 
riding on a magnificent horse which Gerda knew (it was one 
of the leaders in the golden carriage), a young damsel with a 
bright red cap on her head, and armed with pistols. It was 
the little Robber-maiden, who, tired of being at home, had 
determined to make a journey to the north; and afterwards 
in another direction, if that did not please her. She recog- 
nized Gerda immediately, and Gerda knew her too. It was 
a joyful meeting. 

“You are a fine fellow for tramping about,” said she to 
little Kay; “I should like to know, faith, if you deserve that 
one should run from one end of the world to the other for 
your sake !” 

But Gerda patted her cheeks, and inquired for the Prince 
and Princess. 

“They are gone abroad,” said the other. 

‘But the Raven?” asked little Gerda. 

“OQ! the Raven is dead,” answered she. “His tame 
sweetheart is a widow, and wears a bit of black worsted round 
her leg; she laments most piteously, but it’s all mere talk 
and stuff! Now tell me what you’ve been doing, and how 
you managed to catch him.” 


THE SNOW-QUEEN. 207 


And Gerda and Kay both told her their story. 

And “ Schnipp-schnapp-schnurre-basselurre,” said the Rob: 
ber-maiden ; and she took the hands of each, and promised 
that if she should some day pass through the town where they 
lived, she would come and visit them; and then away she 
rode. Kay and Gerda took each other’s hand : it was lovely 
spring weather, with abundance of flowers and of verdure. 
The church-bells rang, and the children recognized the high 
towers, and the large town; it was that in which they dwelt. 
They entered, and hastened up to their grandmother’s room, 
where everything was standing as formerly. The clock said 
“Tick! tack!” and the finger moved round; but as they 
entered, they remarked that they were now grown up. The 
roses on the leads hung blooming in at the open window ; 
there stood the little children’s chairs, and Kay and Gerda 
sat down on them, holding each other by the hand ; they both 
had forgotten the cold, empty splendor of the Snow-Queen, 
as though it had been a dream. ‘The grandmother sat in 
the bright sunshine, and read aloud from the Bible: “ Unless 
ye become as little children, ye cannot enter the kingdom of 
heaven.” 

And Kay and Gerda looked in each other’s eyes, and all 
at once they understood the old hymn : — 


“The rose in the valley is blooming so sweet, 
The Child Jesus is there the children to greet.” 


There sat the two grown-up persons; grown-up, and yet 
children ; children at least in heart: and it was summer-time ; 
summer, glorious summer ! 


208 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


PEN AND INKSTAND. 


HE following remark was made in a poet’s room, as the 
speaker looked at the inkstand that stood upon his 
table > —— 

“Tt is marvelous all that can come out of that inkstand! 
What will it produce next? Yes, it is marvelous!” 

“So itis!” exclaimed the Inkstand. “It is incomprehen- 
sible! That is what I always say.” It was thus the Inkstand 
addressed itself to the Pen, and to everything else that could 
hear it on the table. “It is really astonishing all that can 
come from me! It is almost incredible! I positively do not 
know myself what the next thing may be, when a person 
begins to dip into me. One drop of me serves for half a side 
of paper; and what may not then appear upon it? I am cer- 
tainly something extraordinary. From me proceed all the 
works of the poets. These animated beings, whom people 
think they recognize, — these deep feelings, that gay humor, 
these charming descriptions of nature, —I do not understand 
them myself, for I know nothing about nature ; but still it is 
allin me. From me have gone forth, and still go forth, these 
warrior hosts, these lovely maidens, these bold knights on 
snorting steeds, those droll characters in humbler life. The 
fact is, however, that I do not know anything about them my- 
self. I assure you they are not my ideas.” 

“You are right there,” replied the Pen. “You have few 
ideas, and do not trouble yourself much with thinking. If 
you ad exert yourself to think, you would perceive that you 
ought to give something that was not dry. You supply me 
with the means of committing to paper what I have in me; I 
write with that. It is the pen that writes. Mankind do not 
doubt that; and most men have about as much genius for 
poetry as an old inkstand.” 

“You have but little experience,” said the Inkstand. “You | 
have scarcely been a week in use, and you are already half 
worn out. Do you fancy that you are a poet? You are only 
a servant; and I have had many of your kind before you 


~ 


FEN AND INKSTAND. 209 


came —many of the goose family, and of English manufac- 
ture. I know both quill pens and steel pens. I have hada 
great many in my service, and I shall have many more still, 
when he, the man who stirs me up, comes and puts down 
what he takes from me. I should like very much to know 
what will be the next thing he will take from me.” 

“treo, said the Pen. | 

Late in the evening the Poet returned home. He had been 
at a concert, had heard a celebrated violin player, and was 
quite enchanted with his wonderful performance. It had been 
a complete gush of melody that he had drawn from the instru- 
ment. Sometimes it seemed like the gentle murmur of a rip- 
pling stream, sometimes like the singing of birds, sometimes 
like the tempest sweeping through the mighty pine forests. 
He fancied he heard his own heart weep, but in the sweet 
tones that can be heard in a woman’s charming voice. It 
seemed as if not only the strings of the violin made music, 
but its bridge, its pegs, and its sounding-board. It was aston- 
ishing! The piece had been a most difficult one; but it 
seemed like play — as if the bow were but wandering capri- 
ciously over the strings. Such was the appearance of facility, 
that every one might have supposed he could do it. The 
violin seemed to sound of itself, the bow to play of itself. 
These two seemed to do it all. One forgot the master who 
guided them, who gave them life and soul. Yes, they forgot 
the master; but the Poet thoyght of him. He named him, 
and wrote down his thoughts as follows : — 

“ How foolish it would be of the violin and the bow, were 
they to be vain of their performance! And yet this is what 
so often we of the human species are. Poets, artists, those 
who make discoveries in science, military and naval com- 
manders, — we are all proud of ourselves ; and yet we are all 
only the instruments in our Lord’s hands. To Him alone 
be the glory! We have nothing to arrogate to ourselves.” 

This was what the Poet wrote; and he headed it with, 
“The Master and the Instruments.” 

“Well, madam,” said the Pen to the Inkstand when they 
were again alone, “you heard him read aloud what I had 
written.” | 

14 


210 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


“Yes, what I gave you to write,” said the Inkstand: “It 
was a hit at you for your conceit. Strange that you cannot 
see that people make a fool of you! I gave you that hit 
pretty cleverly. I confess, though, it was rather malicious.” 

“ TInk-holder!” cried the Pen. . 

“Writing-stick !” cried the Inkstand. 

They both felt assured that they had answered well ; and it 
is a pleasant reflection that one has made a smart reply — one 
sleeps comfortably after it. And they both went to sleep; 
but the Poet could not sleep. His thoughts welled forth like 
the tones from the violin, trilling like pearls, rushing like a 
‘storm through the forest. He recognized the feelings of his 
own heart—he perceived the gleam from the everlasting 
Master. 

To Him alone be the glory! 


meer CLAUS AND BIG’ CLAUS. 


HERE lived in a village two men who both had the 

same name; they were called Claus; but one of them 
had four horses, and the other had only one horse; so in 
order to tell one from the other, people called the owner of 
the four horses, “ Big Claus,” and him who had only one, 
“Little Claus.” Now we shall hear what happened to the 
two, for this is a true story. 

The whole week through, Little Claus was obliged to plough 
for Big Claus, and lend him his one horse; and, in return, 
Big Claus lent him all his four horses, but only on one day of 
the week, and that was Sunday. Then how proudly Little 
Claus would smack his whip over all five horses! they were 
as good as his own on that one day. The sun shone brightly, 
and all the bells in the church tower were ringing merrily as 
the people passed by, dressed in their best clothes, with their 
prayer-books under their arms. They were going to hear the 
clergyman preach, and they looked at Little Claus ploughing 
with his five horses, and he was so proud that he smacked his 
whip, and said, “ G’up, all my horses!” 

“You must not say that,” said Big Claus ; “for only one of 
them belongs to you.” But when another lot of people went 
by to church, Little Claus forgot what he ought to say, and 
called out, “G’up, all my horses!” 

“Now [I tell you not to say that again,” said Big Claus ; 


Pa es ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


“for if you do, I shall hit your horse on the head, so that he 
will drop dead on the spot, and that will be the end of him.” 

‘“‘T promise you I will not say it any more,” said the other ; 
but as soon as people came by, nodding to him, and wishing 
him ‘Good day,” he became so pleased, and thought how 
grand it looked to have five horses ploughing in his field, that 
he cried out again, ‘‘ G’up, all my horses!” 

“T’ll g’up your horses for you,” said Big Claus ; and, seiz- 
ing a carriage weight, he struck the one horse of Little Claus 
on the head, and he fell dead instantly. 

“Ah! now J have no horse at all,” said Little Claus, and 
he began to weep. SBut after a while he took off the dead 
horse’s skin, and hung the hide to dry in the wind. Then he 
put the dry skin into a bag, and, placing it over his shoulder, 
went out into the next town to sell the horse’s hide. 

He had a very long way to go, and had to pass through a 
dark, gloomy forest. Presently a storm arose, and he lost his 
way, and before he discovered the right path, evening came 
on, and it was still a long way to the town, and too far to 
return home before night. 

Near the road stood a large farm-house. ‘The shutters out- 
side the windows were closed, but lights shone through the 
crevices and at the top. “I might get permission to stay here 
for the night,” thought Little Claus; so he went up to the 
door and knocked. ; 

The Farmer’s wife opened the door; but when she heard 
what he wanted, she told him to go away, as her husband 
would not allow her to admit strangers. 

“Then I shall be obliged to lie out here,” said Little Claus 
to himself, and the Farmer’s wife shut the door in his face. 

Near to the farm-house stood a large hay-stack, and between 
it and the house was a small shed, with a thatched roof. 

“T can lie up there,” said Tittle Claus, as he saw the roof ; 
“it will make a famous bed, but I hope the stork will not fly 
down and bite my legs ;” for on it stood a living stork, whose 
nest was in the roof. | 

So Little Claus climbed to the roof of the shed, and while 
he turned himself to get comfortable, he discovered that the 
wooden shutters, which were closed, did not reach to the tops 


GILT LE CLAUS "AND BIG CLAS, 213 


of the windows of the farm-house, so that he could see into a 
room in which a large table was laid out, with wine, roast 
meat, and a splendid fish. The Farmer’s wife and the Sexton 
were sitting at the table together; and she filled his glass, 
and helped him plenteously to fish, for that was something he 
was fond of. 

“Tf i could only get some, too,” thought Little Claus ; and 
he stretched his neck toward the window. O, what a lovely 
pie he could see there! O, but that was a feast! 

Now he heard some one riding down the road, toward the 
farm-house. It was the woman’s husband coming home. He 
was a good man, but still he had a very strange prejudice, — 
he could not bear the sight of a sexton. If one appeared 
before him, he would put himself in a terrible rage. And so 
it was that the Sexton had gone to visit the Farmer’s wife dur- 
ing her ‘husband’s absence from home, and the good woman 
had placed before him the best she had in the house to eat. 
‘When she heard the Farmer coming she was frightened, and 
begged the Sexton to hide himself in a large empty chest that 
stood in the room. He did so, for he knew her husband 
could not endure the sight of a sexton. The woman then 
quickly put away the wine, -and hid all the rest of the nice 
things in the oven; for if her husband had seen them he 
would have asked what they were brought out for. 

“O dear!” sighed Little Claus from the top of the shed, as 
he saw all the good things disappear. 

“Ts any one up there?” asked the Farmer, looking up and 
discovering Little Claus. “Why are you lying up there? 
Come down, and come into the house with me.” So Little 
Claus came down and told the Farmer how he had lost his 
way, and begged for a night’s lodging. 

“All right,” said the Farmer ; “but we must have something 
to eat first.” 

The woman received them both very kindly, laid the cloth 
on a large table, and placed before them a dish of groats. 
The Farmer was very hungry, and ate his groats with a good 
appetite, but Little Claus could not help thinking of the nice 
roast meat, fish, and pies, which he knew were in the oven. 
Under the table, at his feet, lay the sack containing the horse’s 


204 ANDERSEN'S WONDER STORIES. 


skin, which he intended to sell at the next town. Now Little 
Claus did not relish the groats at all, so he trod with his foot 
on the sack under the table, and the dry skin squeaked quite 
loud. “Hush!” said Little Claus to his sack, at the same 
time treading upon it again, till it squeaked louder than 
before. 

“Hallo! what have you got in your sack?” asked the Far- 
mer. 

“QO, itis a conjuror,” said Little Claus; “and he says we 
need not eat groats, for he has conjured the oven full of roast 
meat, fish, and pie.” 

“Wonderful!” cried the Farmer, and he opened the oven 
door ; and there lay all the nice things hidden by the Farmer’s 
wife, but which he supposed had been conjured there by the 
wizard under the table. ‘The woman dared not say anything ; 
so she placed the things before them, and they both ate of the 
fish, the meat, and the pastry. 

Then Little Claus trod again upon his sack, and it squeaked 
as before. 

‘““What does he say now?” asked the Farmer. 

“ He says,” replied Little Claus, “that there are three bot- 
tles of wine for us, standing in the corner, by the oven.” 

So the woman was obliged to bring out the wine also, which 
she had hidden, and the Farmer drank it till he became quite 
merry. He would have liked such a conjuror as Little Claus 
carried in his sack. “Could he conjure up the devil?” asked 
the Farmer. “I should like to see him now, while I am so 
merry.” 

“O, yes!” replied Little Claus, “my conjuror can do any- 
thing I ask him,—can you not?” he asked, treading at the 
same time on the sack till it squeaked. “Do you hear? he 
answers ‘ Yes,’ but he fears that we shall not like to look at 
him.” 

“QO, I am not afraid. What will he be like?” 

“Well, he is very much like a sexton.” 

“Ha!” said the Farmer ; “then he must be ugly. Do you 
know I cannot endure the sight of a sexton. However, that 
doesn’t matter, I shall know who it is; so I shall not mind. 
Now then, I te got up my courage, but don’t let him come 
too near me.’ 


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LILSLE CLAGCS AND BIG CLAUS. Pg 


“Stop, I must ask the conjuror,” said Little Claus; so he 
trod on the bag, and stooped his ear down to listen. 

“What does he say?” 

“He says that you must go and open that large chest 
which stands in the corner, and you will see the devil crouch- 
ing down inside; but you must hold the lid firmly, that he 
may not slip out.” 

“Will you come and help me hold it?” said the Farmer, 
going toward the chest in which his wife had hidden the Sex- 
ton, who now lay inside, very much frightened. ‘The Farmer 
lifted the lid a very little way, and peeped in. 

“Eh!” cried he, springing backwards. “ Ah, I saw him, and 
he is exactly like our sexton. Howdreadful it is!” So after 
that he was obliged to drink again, and they sat and drank 
till far into the night. 

“You must sell your conjuror to me,” said the Farmer ; 
“ask as much as you like, I will pay it; indeed, I would give 
you directly a whole bushel of gold.” 

“No, indeed, I cannot,” said Little Claus; “only think 
how much profit I could make out of this conjuror.” 

“But I should like to have him,” said the Farmer, still con- 
tinuing his entreaties. 

“Well,” said Little Claus at length, “you have been so 
good as to give me a night’s lodging, I will not refuse you ; 
you shall have the conjuror for a bushel of money, but I will 
have quite full measure.” 

“So you shall,” said the Farmer ; “but you must take away 
the chest as well. I would not have it in the house another 
hour ; there is no knowing if Ze may not be still there.” 

So Little Claus gave the Farmer the sack containing the 
dried horse’s skin, and received in exchange a bushel of 
money — full measure The Farmer also gave him a wheel- 
barrow on which to carry away the chest and the gold. 

“Farewell,” said Little Claus, as he went off with his 
money and the great chest, in which the sexton lay still con- 
cealed. On one side of the forest was a broad, deep river ; 
the water flowed so rapidly that very few were able to swim 
against the stream. A new bridge had lately been built across 
it, and in the middle of this bridge Little Claus stopped, and 
said, loud enough to be heard by the Sexton, — 


218 ANODERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


“Now, what shall I do with this stupid chest? it is as heavy 
as if it were full of stones: I shall be tired if I roll it any 
farther, so I may as well throw it into the river ; if it swims 
after me to my house, well and good, and if not, it will not 
much matter.” 

So he seized the chest in his hand, and lifted it up a little, 
as if he were going to throw it into the water. 

“No, leave it alone,” cried the Sexton from within the 
enest ;)s-letime out first” 

“O,” exclaimed Little Claus, pretending to be frightened, 
‘he is in there still, is he? I must throw him into the river, 
that he may be drowned.” 

“O no! O no!” cried the Sexton; “I will give you a 
whole bushel full of money if you will let me go.” 

“Why, that is another matter,” said Little Claus, opening 
the chest. The Sexton crept out, pushed the empty chest into 
the water, and went to his house; then he measured outa 
whole bushel full of gold for Little Claus, who had already re- 
ceived one from the Farmer, so that now he had a barrow full. 

“T have been well paid for my horse,” said he to himself 
when he reached home, entered his own room, and emptied 
all his money into a heap on the floor. ‘“ How vexed Big 
Claus will be when he finds how rich I have become all 
through my one horse ; but I shall not tell him exactly how it 
all happened.” Then he sent a boy to Big Claus to borrow a 
bushel measure. 

“What can he want it for?” thought Big Claus; so he 
smeared the bottom of the measure with tar, that some of 
whatever was put into it might stick there and remain. And 
so it happened ; for when the measure returned, three new 
silver florins were sticking to it. 

“What does this mean?” said Big Claus; so he ran off 
directly to Little Claus, and asked, “‘Where did you get so 
much money ?”’ 

““O, for my horse’s hide ; I sold it yesterday.” 

“Tt was certainly well paid for then,” said Big Claus ; and 
he ran home to his house, seized a hatchet, and knocked all 
his four horses on the head, flayed off their skins, and took 
them to the town to sell. ‘‘ Hides, hides! who’ll buy hides?” 


WITLI LE CLAUS AND BIG CLAUS. 219 


he cried, as he went through the streets. All the shoemakers 
and tanners came running, and asked how much he wanted for 
them. 

“ A bushel of money, for each,” replied Big Claus. 

“Are you mad?” they all cried ; “do you think we have 
money to spend by the bushel ?”’ 

“ Hides, hides!” he cried again, “who'll buy hides?” but 
to all who inquired the price, his answer was, ‘A bushel of 

money.” 

“He is making fools of us,” said they all ; then the shoe- 
makers took their straps, and the tanners their leather aprons, 
and began to beat Big Claus. 

“ Flides,: hides!” they cried, mocking him; “yes, we'll 
mark your hide for you, till it is black and blue.” 

“Out of the town with him,” said they. And Big Claus 
was obliged to run as fast as he could ; he had never before 
been so thoroughly beaten. 

““ Ah,” said he, as he came to his house, “ Little Claus 
shall pay me for this ; I will beat him to death.” 

Now it happened that the old grandmother of Little Claus 
died. She had been cross, unkind, and really spiteful to him ; 
but he was very sorry, and took the dead woman and laid her 
in his warm bed to see if he could bring her to life again. 
There he determined that she should le the whole night, while 
he seated himself in a chair in a corner of the room, as he had 
often done before. 

During the night, as he sat there, the door opened, and in 
came Big Claus with a hatchet. He knew well where Little 
Claus’s bed stood ; so he went right up to it, and struck the 
old grandmother on the head, thinking it must be Little 
Claus. 

“ There,” cried he, “now you cannot make a fool of me 
again ;” and then he went home. 

“That is a very wicked man,” thought Little Claus ; “he 
meant to kil! me. It is a good thing for my old grandmother 
that she was already dead, or he would have taken her life.” 

Then he dressed his old grandmother in her best clothes, 
borrowed a horse of his neighbor, and harnessed it to a cart. 
Then he placed the old woman on the back seat, so that she 


220 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


might not fall out as he drove, and rode away through the 
wood. By sunrise they reached a large inn, where Little Claus 
stopped and went to get something to eat. 

The landlord was a rich man, and a good man too ; but as 
passionate as if he had been made of pepper and snuff. 

“Good morning,” said he to Little Claus; “you are come 
betimes to-day.” 

“Yes,” said Little Claus; “I am going to the town with 
my old grandmother ; she is sitting at the back of the wagon, 
but I cannot bring her into the room. Will you take her a 
glass of mead? but you must speak very loud, for she cannot 
hear well.” 

“ Ves, certainly I will,” replied the Landlord ; and, pouring 
out a glass of mead, he carried it out to the dead grandmother, 
who sat upright in the cart. 

“Here is a glass of mead from your grandson,” said the 
Landlord. ‘The dead woman did not answer a word, but sat 
quite still. 

“Do you not hear?” cried the Landlord, as loud as he 
could ; “here is a glass of mead from your grandson.” 

Again and again he bawled it out, but as she did not stir he 
flew into a passion, and threw the glass of mead in her face ; 
~ it struck her on the nose, and she fell backwards out of the 
cart, for she was only seated there, not tied in. 

“Mercy!” cried Little Claus, and sprang out of the door, 
and seized hold of the Landlord by the throat; “you have 
killed my grandmother ; see, here is a great hole in her fore- 
head.” 

“OQ how unfortunate,” said the Landlord, wringing his 
hands. “This all comes of my fiery temper. Dear Little 
Claus, I will give you a whole bushel of money, and will bury 
your grandmother as if she were my own ; only keep silent, 
or else they will cut off my head, and that would be disagree- 
able.” 

So it happened that Little Claus received another bushel of 
money, and the Landlord buried his old grandmother as if ue 
had been his own. 

When now Little Claus reached home again, he immediately » 
sent a boy to Big Claus, requesting him to lend him a bushel 


CAP PDE OCHO SAND BIG CLAUS, Zak 


measure. “ How is this?” thought Big Claus ; “did I not kil) 
him? I must go and see for myself.” So he went to Little 
Claus, and took the bushel measure with him. ‘ How did 
you get all this money?” asked Big Claus, staring with wide 
open eyes at his neighbor’s treasures. 

“Vou killed my grandmother instead of me,” said Little 
Claus, “so I have sold her for a bushel of money.” 

“That is a good price any way,” said Big Claus. So he 
went home, took a hatchet, and killed his old grandmother 
with one blow. ‘Then he placed her on a cart, and drove into 
the town to the apothecary, and asked him if he would buy a 
dead body. 

‘““Whose is it, and where did you get it?” asked the Apoth- 
ecary. 

“It is my grandmother,” he replied; “I struck her dead 
for a bushel of money.” 

“Heaven preserve us!” cried the Apothecary, ‘“ you are out 
of your mind. Don’t say such things, or you will lose your 
head.” And then he talked to him seriously about the wicked 
deed he had done, and told him that such a wicked man 
would surely be punished. Big Claus got so frightened that 
he rushed out of the apothecary shop, jumped into the cart, 
whipped up his horses, and drove home quickly. The Apoth- 
ecary and all the people thought him mad, and let him drive 
where he liked. 

“Vou shall pay for this,” said Big Claus, as soon as he got 
into the high-road, — “ that you shall, Little Claus.” So as soon 
as he reached home he took the largest sack he could find, 
and went over to Little Claus. “ You have played me another 
trick,” said he. “ First, I killed all my horses, and then my old 
grandmother, and it is all your fault ; but you shall not make 
a fool of me any more.” So he laid hold of Little Claus 
round the body, and pushed him into the sack, which he took 
on his shoulders, saying, “ Now I’m going to drown you in the 
river.” 

He had a long way to go before he reached the river, and 
Little Claus was not a very light weight to carry. The road 
led by the church, and as they passed he could hear the organ 
playing and the people singing beautifully. Big Claus put 


222 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


down the sack close to the church door, and thought he might 
as well go in and hear a psalm before he went any further. 
Little Claus could not possibly get out of the sack, and all the 
people were in church ; so in he went. 

“© dear, O dear,” sighed Little Claus in the sack, as he 
turned and twisted about ; but he found he could not loosen 
the string with which it was tied. Presently an old cattle 
driver, with snowy hair, passed by, carrying a large staff in his 
hand, with which he drove a large herd of cows and oxen be- 
fore him. They stumbled against the sack in which lay Little 
Claus, and turned it over. “QO dear,” sighed Little Claus, 
“T am so young, and going so soon to heaven.” 

“ And I, poor fellow,” said the drover,— ‘I, who am so 
old already, cannot get there.” 

“Open the sack,” cried Little Claus ; “creep into it instead 
of me, and you will soon be there.” 

“ With all my heart,” replied the drover, opening the sack, 
from which sprung Little Claus as quickly as possible. ‘ Will 
you take care of my cattle?” said the old man, as he crept 
into the bag. 

“Yes,” said Little Claus, and he tied up the sack, and then 
walked off with all the cows and oxen. 

When Big Claus came out of church, he took up the sack, 
and placed it on his shoulders. It appeared to have become 
lighter, for the old drover was not half so heavy as Little 
Claus. 

“‘ How light he seems now,” said he. “ Ah, it is because I 
have been to a church.” So he walked on to the river, which 
was deep and broad, and threw the sack containing the old 
drover into the water, believing it to be Little Claus. “There 
you may lie!” he exclaimed; “you will play me no more 
tricks now.” ‘Then he turned to go home, but when he came 
to a place where two roads crossed, there was Little Claus 
driving the cattle “ How is this?” said Big Claus. “ Did I 
not drown you just now?” 

“Yes,” said Little Claus; “you threw me into the river 
about half an hour ago.” 

“But where ever did you get all these fine beasts?” asked 
Big Claus. 


PLE CLAGS ANS BIG CLAS, 223 


“These beasts are sea-cattle,” replied Little Claus. “VU 
tell you the whole story, and thank you for drowning me; I 
am above you now; I am really very rich. I was frightened, 
to be sure, while I lay tied up in the sack, and. the wind whis- 
tled in my ears when you threw me into the river from the 
bridge, and I sank to the bottom immediately ; but I did not 
hurt myself, for I fell upon beautifully soft grass which grows 
down there; and, in a moment, the sack opened, and the 
sweetest little maiden came towards me. She had snow-white 
robes, and a wreath of green leaves on her wet hair. She 
took me by the-hand, and said, ‘So you are come, Little 
Claus, and here are some cattle for you to begin with. About 
a mile further on the road, there is another herd for you.’ 
Then I saw that the river formed a great highway for the peo- 
ple who live in the sea. They were walking and driving here 
and there from the sea to the land at the spot where the river 
terminates. ‘The bed of the river was covered with the love- 
liest flowers and sweet, fresh grass. ‘The fish swam past me 
as rapidly as the birds do here in the air. How handsome all 
the people were, and what fine cattle were grazing on the hills 
and in the valleys!” é 

“But why did you come up again,” said Big Claus, “ if it 
was all so beautiful down there? I should not have done so.” 

“Well,” said Little Claus, “it was good policy on my part ; 
you heard me say just now that I was told by the sea-maiden 
to go amile further on the road, and I should find a whole 
herd of cattle. By the road she meant the river, for she could 
not travel any other way; but I knew the winding of the 
river, and how it bends, sometimes to the right and sometimes 
to the left, and it seemed a long way, so I chose a shorter 
one ; and, by coming up to the land, and then driving across 
the fields back again to the river, I shall save half a mile, 
and get all my cattle more quickly.” 

“What a lucky fellow you are!” exclaimed Big Claus. 
“Do you think I should get any sea-cattle if I went down to 
the bottom of the river?” 

“Yes, I think so,” said Little Claus ; “but I cannot carry 
you there in a sack, you are too heavy. However, if you will 
go there first, and then creep into a sack, I will throw you in 
with the greatest pleasure.” 


PAE ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


“Thank you,” said Big Claus ; “but remember, if I do 
not get any sea-cattle down there, I shall come up again and 
give you a good thrashing.” 

“No, now, don’t be too fierce about it!” said Little Claus, 
as they walked on towards the river. When they approached 
it, the cattle, who were very thirsty, saw the stream, and ran 
down to drink, 

“See what a hurry they are in,” said Little Claus, “ they 
are longing to get down again.” 

“ome, Help. me, make: haste,’ Said Big. Clatsjae im 
you'll get beaten.” So he crept into a large sack, which had 
been lying across the back of one of the oxen. 

“‘ Put in a stone,” said Big Claus, “ or I may not sink.” 

“QO, there’s not much fear of that,” he replied ; still he put 
a large stone into the bag, and then tied it tightly, and gave it 
a push. 

“Plump!” In went Big Claus, and immediately sank 
to the bottom of the river. 

“Tm afraid he will not find any cattle,” said Little Claus, 
and then he drove his own beasts homeward. 


i 


PHEW GLRLe WIPO TROD COLON (BREAD. 225 


THE’ GIRL WHO TROD:UPON BREAD. 


OU have doubtless heard of the girl who trod upon 
bread, not to soil her pretty shoes, and what evil this 
brought upon her. The tale is both written and printed. 

She was a poor child, but proud and vain. She had a bad 
disposition, people said. When she was a little more than an 
infant, it was a pleasure to her to catch flies, to pull off their 
wings, and so make them creepers entirely. She used, when 
somewhat older, to take lady-birds and beetles, stick them all 
upon a pin, then put a large leaf or a piece of paper close to 
their feet, so that the poor things held fast to it, and turned 
and twisted in their endeavours to get off the pin. 

“ Now read, lady-birds!” said little Inger. “See how they 
turn the paper !”’ 

. As she grew older she became worse instead of better ; but 
she was very beautiful, and that was her misfortune. She 
would have been punished otherwise, and in the long run she 
was. 

“Vou will bring evil on your own head,” said her mother. 
“ As a little child you used often to tear my aprons; I fear 
that when you are older you will break my heart.” 

And she did so sure enough. ~ ee, 

At length she went into the country to wait on people of 
distinction. They were as kind to her as if she had been one 
of their own family ; and she was so well dressed that she 
looked very pretty, and became extremely arrogant. © 

When she had been a year in service, her employers said to 
her, — 

“You should go and visit your relations, little Inger.” 

She went, resolved to let them see how fine she had be- 
come. When, however, she reached the village, and saw the 
lads and lasses gossiping together near the pond, and her 
mother sitting close by on a stone, resting her head against a 
bundle of firewood which she had picked up in the forest, 
Inger turned back. She felt ashamed that she who was 
dressed so smartly should have for her mother such a ragged 

15 


226 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


creature, one who gathered sticks for her fire. It gave her no 
concern that she was expected — she was so vexed. 

A half year more had passed. 

“You must go home some day and see your old parents, 
little Inger,” said the mistress of the house. —““Heresism 
large loaf of white bread — see can carry this to them; they 
will be rejoiced to see you.” 

And Inger put on her best clothes and her nice new shee 
and she lifted her dress high, and walked so carefully, that 
she might not soil her garments or her feet. There was no 
harm at all in that. But when she came to where the path 
went over some damp, marshy ground, and there were water 
and mud in the way, she threw the bread into the mud, in 
order to step upon it and get over with dry shoes ; but just as 
she had placed one foot on the bread and had lifted the other 
up, the bread sank in with her deeper and deeper, till she 
went entirely down, and nothing was to be seen but a black, 
bubbling pool. 

That is the story. 

What became of the girl? She went below to the moor 
woman who brews down there. ‘The Moor Woman is an aunt 
of the fairies. Zey are very well known. Many poems have 
been written about them, and they have been printed ; but no- 
body knows anything more of the Moor Waman than that 
when the meadows and the ground begin to reek in summer, 
it is the old woman below who is brewing. Into her brewery 
it was that Inger sank, and no one could hold out very long 
there. A cesspool is a charming apartment compared with the 
old moor woman’s brewery. Every vessel is redolent of horri- 
ble smells, which would make any human being faint, and 
they are packed closely together and over each other ; but 
even if there were a small space among them which one might 
creep through, it would be impossible, on account of all the 
slimy toads and snakes that are always crawling and forcing 
themselves through. Into this place little Inger sank. All 
this nauseous mess was so ice-cold that she shivered in every 
limb. Yes she became stiffer and stiffer. The bread stuck 
fast to her, and it drew her as an amber bead draws a slendet 
thread. 


a 


THE GIRL WHO TROD UPON: BREAD. rHey 


The Moor Woman was at home. The brewery was that day 
visited by the devil and his dam, and she was a venomous 
old creature who was never idle. She never went out without 
having some needlework with her. She had brought some 
there. She was sewing running leather to put into the shoes 
of human beings, so that they should never be at rest. She 
embroidered lies, and worked up into mischief and discord 
thoughtless words, that would otherwise have fallen to the 
ground. Yes, she knew how to sew and embroider, and trans- 
fer with a vengeance, that old grandam. 

She beheld Inger, put on her spectacles, and looked at 
her. 

“That is a girl with talents,” said she. “I shall ask for her 
as a souvenir of my visit here ; she may do very well as a 
statue to ornament my great-grandchildren’s antechamber ;” 
and she took her. 

It was thus little Inger went to the infernal regions. Peo- 
ple do not generally go straight through the air to them: they 
can go by a roundabout path when they know the way. 

It was an antechamber in an infinity. One became giddy 
there at looking forward, and giddy at looking backward, 
and there stood a crowd of anxious, pining beings, who were 
waiting and hoping for the time when the gates of grace 
should be opened. They would have long to wait. Hideous 
large, waddling spiders wove thousands of webs over their | 
feet ; and these webs were like gins or foot-screws, and held 
them as fast as chains of iron, and were a cause of disquiet 
to every soul—a painful annoyance. Misers stood there, 
and lamented <hat they had forgotten the keys of their money 
chests. It would be too tiresome to repeat all the complaints 
and troubles that were poured forth there. Inger thought 
it shocking to stand there like a statue: she was, as it were, 
fastened to the ground by the bread. 

“This comes of wishing to have clean shoes,” said she to 
herself. “ See how they all stare at me!” | 

Yes, they did all stare at her; their evil passions glared 
from their eyes, and spoke, without sound, from the corners 
of their mouths: they were frightful. 

“Tt must be a pleasure to them to see me,” thought little 


228 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


Inger. “I have a pretty face, and am well dressed ;” and 
she dried her eyes. She had not lost her conceit. She had 
not then perceived how her fine clothes had been soiled in 
the brew-house of the Moor Woman. Her dress was covered 
with dabs of nasty matter ; a snake had wound itself among 
her hair, and it dangled over her neck ; and from every fold 
in her garment peeped out a toad, that puffed like an asth- 
matic lap-dog. It was very disagreeable. ‘ But all the rest 
down here look horrid too,” was the reflection with which she 
consoled herself. 

But the worst of all was the dreadful hunger she felt. 
Could she not stoop down and break off a piece of the bread 
on which she was standing? No; her back was stiffened ; 
her hands. and her arms were stiffened ; her whole body was 
like a statue of stone; she could only move her eyes, and 
these she could turn entirely round, and that was an ugly 
sight. And flies came and crept over her eyes backward 
and forward. She winked her eyes ; but the intruders did 
not fly away, for they could not — their wings had been pulled 
off. ‘That was another misery added to the hunger —the 
gnawing hunger that was so terrible to bear! 

“Tf this goes on I cannot hold out much longer,” she said. 

But she had to hold out, and her sufferings became greater. 

Then a warm tear fell upon her head. It trickled over her 
face and her neck, all the way down to the bread. Another 
tear fell, then many followed. Who was weeping over little 
Inger? Had she not a mother up yonder on the earth? The 
tears of anguish which a mother sheds over her erring child 
always reach it; but they do not comfort the child—they 
burn, they increase the suffering. And O! this intolerable 
hunger ; yet not to be able to snatch one mouthful of the 
bread she was treading under foot! She became as thin, as 
slender, as areed. Another trial was that she heard distinctly 
all that was said of her above on the earth, and it was nothing 
but blame and evil. Though her mother wept, and was in 
much affliction, she still said, — 

“Pride goes before a fall. That was your great fault, 
Inger. O, how miserable you have made your mother!” 

Her mother and all who were acquainted with her were well 


THE GIRL WHO TROD UPON BREAD. 229 


aware of the sin she had committed in treading upon bread. 
They knew that she had sunk into the bog, and was lost ; 
the cowherd had told that, for he had seen it himself from the 
brow of the hill. 

“ What affliction you have brought on your mother, Inger !” 
exclaimed her mother. ‘ Ah, well! I expected no better from 
you.” 

, “Would that I had never been born!” thought Inger ; 
“that would have been much better for me. My mother’s 
whimpering can do no good now.” 

She heard how the family, the people of distinction who 
had been so kind to her, spoke. ‘“ She was a wicked child,” 
they said ; “she valued not the gifts of our Lord, but trod 
them under her feet. It will be difficult for her to get the 
gates of grace open to admit her.” 

“They ought to have brought me up better,” thought Inger. 
“They should have taken the whims out of me, if I had any.” 

She heard that there was a common ballad made about her, 
“the bad girl who trod upon bread, to keep her shoes nicely 
clean,” and this ballad was sung from one end of the country 
to the other. 

“That any one should have to suffer so much for such as 
that — be punished so severely for such a trifle!” thought 
Inger. “‘ All these others are punished justly, for no doubt 
there was a great deal to punish ; but ah, how I suffer!” 

And her heart became still harder than the substance into 
which she had been turned. 

““No one can be better in such society. I will not grow 
better here. See how they glare at me.” 

And her heart became still harder, and she felt a hatred 
toward all mankind. | 

“They have a nice story to tell up there now. O, how I 
suffer !” 

She listened, and heard them telling her history as a warn- 
ing to children, and the little ones called her “ungodly In- 
ger.” “She was so naughty,” they said, “so very wicked, 
that she deserved to suffer.” 

The children always spoke harshly of her. One day, how- 
ever, that hunger and misery were gnawing her most dread- 


230°" ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


fully, and she heard her name mentioned, and her story told 
to an innocent child —a little girl—she observed that the 
child burst into tears in her distress for the proud, finely 
dressed Inger. 

“ But will she never come up again?” asked the child. 

‘The answer was, — 

“She will never come up again.” 

“But if she will beg pardon, and promise never to be 
naughty again?” 

“But she will zo¢ beg pardon,” they said. 

“OQ, how I wish she would do it!” sobbed the little girl in 
great distress. “I will give my doll, and my doll’s house too, 
if she may come up! It is so shocking for poor little Inger 
to be down there!” 

These words touched Inger’s heart ; they seemed almost to 
make her good. It was the first time any one had said “ poor 
Inger,” and had not dwelt upon her faults. An innocent 
child cried and prayed for her. She was so much affected by 
this that she felt inclined to weep herself; but she could not, 
and this was an additional pain. 

Years passed on in the earth above ; but down where she 
was there was no change, except that she heard more and 
more rarely sounds from above, and that she herself was more 
seldom mentioned. At last one day she heard a sigh, and 
“Inger, Inger, how miserable you have made me! I foretold 
that you would!” ‘These were her mother’s last words on 
her death-bed. 

And again she heard herself named by her former employ- 
ers, and her mistress said, — 

“Perhaps I may meet you once more, Inger. None know 
whither they are to go.” 

But Inger knew full well that her excellent mistress would 
never come to the place where se was. 

Time passed on and on, slowly and wretchedly. Then 
once more Inger heard her name mentioned, and she beheld 
as it were, directly above her, two clear stars shining. ‘These 
were two mild eyes that were closing upon earth. So many 
years had elapsed since a little girl had cried in childish sor- 
row over “poor Inger,” that that child had become an old 


4 


THE GIRL WHO TROD UPON BREAD. 231 


woman, whom our Lord was now about to call to Himself. 
At that hour, when the thoughts and the actions of a whole 
life stand in review before the parting soul, she remembered 
how, as a little child, she had wept bitterly on hearing the his- 
tory of.Inger. ‘That time, and those feelings, stood so promi- 
nently before the old woman’s mind in the hour of death, that 
she cried with intense emotion, — 

“Lord, my God! have not I often, like Inger, trod under 
foot Thy blessed gifts, and placed no value on them? Have I 
not often been guilty of pride and vanity in my secret heart? 
But Thou, in Thy mercy, didst not let me sink ; Thou didst 
hold me up. O, forsake me not in my last hour!” 

And the aged woman’s eyes closed, and her spirit’s eyes 
opened to what had been formerly invisible: and as Inger had 
been present in her latest thoughts, she beheld her, and per- 
ceived how deep she had been dragged downwards. At that 
sight the gentle being burst into tears ; and in the kingdom of 
heaven she stood like a child, and wept for the fate of the un- 
fortunate Inger. Her tears and her prayers sounded like an 
echo down in the hollow form that confined the imprisoned, 
miserable soul. That soul was overwhelmed with the unex- 
pected love from those realms afar. One of God’s angels wept 
for her! Why was this vouchsafed to her? The tortured spirit 
gathered, as it were, into one thought all the actions of its life, 
—all that it had done; and it shook with the violence of its 
remorse — remorse such as Inger had never felt. Grief be- 
came her predominating feeling. She thought that for her 
the gates of mercy would never open, and as in deep contri- 
tion and self-abasement she thought thus, a ray of brightness 
penetrated into the dismal abyss —a ray more vivid and glo- 
rious than the sunbeams which thaw the snow figures that the 
children make in their gardens. And this ray, more quickly 
than the snow-flake that falls upon a child’s warm mouth can 
be melted into a drop of water, caused Inger’s petrified figure 
to evaporate, and a little bird arose, following the zigzag 
course of the ray, up toward the world that mankind inhabit. 
But it seemed afraid and shy of everything around it; it felt 
ashamed of itself; and apparently wishing to avoid all living 
creatures, it sought, in haste, concealment in a dark recess in 


232 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


a crumbling wall. Here it sat, and it crept into the furthest 
corner, trembling all over. It could not sing, for it had no 
voice. For a long time it sat quietly there before it ventured 
to look out and behold all the beauty around. Yes, it was 
beauty! The air was so fresh, yet so soft; the moon shone 
so clearly ; the trees and the flowers scented so sweetly ; and 
it was so comfortable where she sat — her feather garb so clean 
and nice! How all creation told of love and glory! The 
grateful thoughts that awoke in the bird’s breast she would 
willingly have poured forth in song, but the power was denied 
to her. Yes, gladly would she have sung as do the cuckoo 
and nightingale in spring. Our gracious Lord, who hears the 
mute worm’s hymn of praise, understood the thanksgiving that 
lifted itself up in the tones of thought, as the psalm floated 
in David’s mind before it resolved itself into words and 
melody. 

As weeks passed on, these unexpressed feelings of grati- 
tude increased. They would surely find a voice some day, 
with the first stroke of the wing, to perform some good act. 
Might not this happen? 

Now came the holy Christmas festival. The peasants 
raised a pole close by the old wall, and bound an unthrashed 
bundle of oats on it, that the birds of the air might also enjoy 
the Christmas, and have plenty to eat at that time which was 
held in commemoration of the redemption brought to man- 
kind. 

And the sun rose brightly that Christmas morning, and 
shone upon the oat-sheaf, and upon all the chirping birds that 
flew around the pole ; and from the wall issued a faint twitter- 
ing. The swelling thoughts had at last found vent, and the 
low sound was a hymn of joy, as the bird flew forth from its 
hiding-place. 

The winter was an unusually severe one. The waters were 
frozen thickly over; the birds and the wild animals in the 
woods had great difficulty in obtaining food. The little bird, 
that had so recently left its dark solitude, flew about the coun- 
try roads, and when it found by chance a little corn dropped 
in the ruts, it would eat only a single grain itself, while it 
called all the starving sparrows to partake of it. It would 


THE GIRL WHO TROD UPON BREAD. 233 


also fly to the villages and towns, and look well about, and 
where kind hands had strewed crumbs of bread outside the 
windows for the birds, it would eat ess one morsel itself, and 
give all the rest to the others. 

At the end of the winter the bird had found and given away 
so many crumbs of bread, that the number put together would 
have weighed as much as the loaf upon which little Inger had 
trodden in order to save her fine shoes from being soiled ; and 
when she had found and given away the very last crumb, the 
gray wings of the bird became white, and expanded wonder- 
fully. : 

“Tt is flying over the sea!” exclaimed the children who 
saw the white bird. Now it seemed to dip into the ocean, 
now it arose into the clear sunshine ; it glittered in the air; it 
disappeared high, high above; and the children said that it 
had flown up to the sun. 


f 


A> 
le 


S&S 


~ 


BIDS IILSN 


THE EMPEROR’S NEW CLOTHES. 


ANY years ago there lived an Emperor, who was so ex- 
cessively fond of grand new clothes that he spent all 
his money upon them, that he might be very fine. He did not 
care about his soldiers, nor about the theatre, and only liked 
to drive out and show his new clothes.. He had a coat for 
every hour of the day ; and just as they say of a king, “ He is 
in council,” so they always said of him, “ The Emperor is in 
the wardrobe.” 

In the great city in which he lived it was always very 
merry ; every day came many strangers; one day two rogues 
came: they gave themselves out as weavers, and declared 
they could weave the finest stuff any one could imagine. Not 
only were their colors and patterns, they said, uncommonly 
beautiful, but the clothes made of the stuff possessed the 
wonderful quality that they became invisible to any one who 
was unfit for the office he held, or was incorrigibly stupid. 

“Those would be capital clothes!” thought the Emperor. 
“Tf I wore those, I should be able to find out what men in my 
empire are not fit for the places they have ; I could tell the 


THE EWVPERORS NEW CLOTHES. 235 


clever from the dunces. Yes, the stuff must be woven for me 
directly !” 

And he gave the two rogues a great deal of cash in hand, 
that they might begin their work at once. 

As for them, they put up two looms, and pretended to ne 
working ; but they had nothing at all on their looms. They 
at once demanded the finest silk and the costliest gold ; this 
they put into their own pockets, and worked at the empty 
looms till late into the night. 

“T should like to know how far they have got on with the 
stuff,’ thought the Emperor. But he felt quite uncomfortable 
when he thought that those who were not fit for their offices 
could not see it. He believed, indeed, that he had nothing to 
fear for himself, but yet he preferred first to send some one 
else to see how matters stood. All the people in the city 
knew what peculiar power the stuff possessed, and all were 
anxious to see how bad or how stupid their neighbors were. 

“J will send my honest old Minister to the weavers,” 
thought the Emperor. ‘He can judge best how the stuff 
looks, for he has sense, and no one understands his office 
better than he.” 

Now the good old Minister went out into the hall where 
the two rogues sat working at the empty looms. 

“Mercy on us!” thought the old Minister, and he opened 
his eyes wide. “I cannot see anything at all!” But he did 
not say this. 

Both the rogues begged him to be so good as to come 
nearer, and asked if he did not approve of the colors and the 
pattern. ‘Then they pointed to the empty loom, and the poor 
old Minister went on opening his eyes; but he could see 
ncthing, for there was nothing to see. 

“Mercy!” thought he, “can I indeed be so stupid? I 
~never thought that, and not a soul must know it. Am I not 
fit for my office? No, it will never do for me to tell that I 
could not see the stuff.” 

“Don’t you say anything to it?” asked one, as he went on 
weaving. 

“QO, it is charming — quite enchanting!” answered the old 
Minister, as he peered through his spectacles. ‘ What a fine 


2 36 ANDERSEN'S WONDER STORES. 


pattern, and what colors! Yes, I shall tell the Emperor that 
I am very much pleased with it.” 

“Well, we are glad of that,” said both the weavers ; and 
then they named the colors, and explained the strange pat- 
tern. The old Minister listened attentively, that he might be 
able to repeat it when the Emperor came. And he did so. 

Now the rogues asked for more money, and silk and gold, 
which they declared they wanted for weaving. They put all 
into their own pockets, and not a thread was put upon the 
loom ; they continued to work at the empty frames as before. 

The Emperor soon sent again, dispatching another honest 
officer of the court, to see how the weaving was going on, and 
if the stuff would soon be ready. He fared just like the first: 
he looked and looked, but, as there was nothing to be seen 
but the empty looms, he could see nothing. 

“Ts not that a pretty piece of stuff?” asked the two rogues ; 
and they displayed and explained the handsome pattern 
which was not there at all. 

“JT am not stupid!” thought the man: “it must be my 
good office, for which I am not fit. It is funny enough, but I 
must not let it be noticed.” And so he praised the stuff 
which he did not see, and expressed his pleasure at the beau- 
tiful colors and charming pattern. “ Yes, it is enchanting,” 
he told the Emperor. 

All the people in the town were talking of the gorgeous 
stuff. ‘The Emperor wished to see it himself while it was still 
upon the loom. With a whole crowd of chosen men, among 
whom were also the two honest statesmen who had already 
been there, he went to the two cunning rogues, who were 
now weaving with might and main without fibre or thread. 

“Ts not that splendid?” said the two statesmen, who had 
already been there once. ‘“ Does not your Majesty remark 
the pattern and the colors?” And they pointed to the empty 
loom, for they thought that the others could see the stuff. 

“ What’s this?” thought the Emperor. “I can see noth- 
ing at all! That is terrible. Am I stupid? Am I not fit to be 
Emperor? That would be the most dreadful thing that could 
happen tome.» O, it’s very pretty!” he said aloud: °° 1t 
has our highest approbation.” And he nodded in a con- 


THE EMPEROR'S NEW CLOTHES. 2a 


tented way, and gazed at the-empty loom, for he would not 
say that he saw nothing. The whole suite whom he had with 
him looked and looked, and saw nothing, any more than the 
rest ; but, like the Emperor, they said, “That zs pretty!” 
and counseled him to wear the splendid new clothes for the 
first time at the great procession that was presently to take 
place. “It is splendid, excellent !” went from mouth to mouth. 
On all sides there seemed to be general rejoicing, and the 
Emperor gave the rogues the title of Imperial Court Weavers. 

The whole night before the morning on which the pro- 
cession was to take place, the rogues were up, and kept more 
than sixteen candles burning. ‘The people could see that 
they were hard at work, completing the Emperor’s new 
clothes. They pretended to take the stuff down from the 
loom; they made cuts in the air with great scissors ; they 
sewed with needles without thread; and at last they said, 
“Now the clothes are ready!” 

The Emperor came himself with his noblest cavaliers ; and 
the two rogues lifted up one arm as if they were holding 
something, and said, “See, here are the trousers! here is 
the coat! here is the cloak!” and so on. “It is as light as 
a spider’s web: one would think one had nothing on; but 
that is just the beauty of it.” 

“Yes,” said all the cavaliers ; but they could not see any- 
thing, for nothing was there. 

“Will your Imperial Majesty please to condescend to take 
off your clothes?” said the rogues ; “then we will put on you 
the new clothes here in front of the great mirror.” 

The Emperor took off his clothes, and the rogues pre- 
tended to put on him each new garment as it was ready ; 
and the Emperor turned round and round before the mirror. 

“O, how well they look! how capitally they fit!” said all. 
“What a pattern! what colors! That zs a splendid dress!” 

“They are standing outside with the canopy which is to 
be borne above your Majesty in the procession!” announced 
the head Master of the Ceremonies. 

“Well, I am ready,” replied the Emperor. “ Does it not 
suit me well?” And then he turned again to the mirror, 
for he wanted it to appear as if he contemplated his adorn- 
ment with great interest. 


2 38 ANDERSEN’ S WONDER STORIES. 


The two chamberlains, who were to carry the train, stooped 
down with their hands toward the floor, just as if they were 
picking up the mantle; then they pretended to be holding 
something in the air. They did not dare to let it be noticed 
that they saw nothing. i 

So the Emperor went in procession under the rich canopy, 
and every one in the streets, said, ‘‘ How incomparable are 
the Emperor’s new clothes! what a train he has to his man- 
tle! how it fits him!” No one would let it be perceived 
that he could see nothing, for that would have shown that 
he was not fit for his office, or was very stupid. No clothes 
of the Emperor’s had ever had such a success as these. 

“But he has nothing on!” a little child cried out at last. 

“Just hear what that innocent says!” said the father: and 
one whispered to another what the child had said. 

“‘ But he has nothing on!” said the whole people at length. 
That touched the Emperor, for it seemed to him that they 
were right; but he thought within himself, “I must go 
through with the procession.” And so he held himself a 
little higher, and the chamberlains held on tighter than ever, 
and carried the train which did not exist at all. 


: Cif Fins i are 


THE LITTLE SEA-MAID. 


AR out in the sea the water is as blue as the petals of the 

most beautiful corn-flower, and as clear as the purest 
glass. But it is very deep, deeper than any cable will sound ; 
many steeples must be placed one above the other to reach 
from the ground to the surface of the water. And down there 
live the sea-people. } 

Now, you must not believe there is nothing down there but 
the naked sand ; no, —the strangest trees and plants grow 
there, so pliable in their stalks and leaves that at the least 
motion of the water they move just as if they had life. All 
fishes, great and small, glide among the twigs, just as here the 
birds do in the trees. In the deepest spot of all lies the Sea- 
king’s castle: the walls are of coral, and the tall, Gothic win- 
dows of the'\clearest amber; shells form the roof, and they 
open and shut according as the water flows. It looks lovely, 
for in each shell lie gleaming pearls, a single one of which 
would have great value in a queen’s diadem. 

The Sea-king below there had been a widower for many 
years, while his old mother kept house for him. She was a 
clever woman, but proud of her rank, so she wore twelve 
oysters on her tail, while the other great people were only al- 
lowed to wear six. Beyond this she was deserving of great 


240 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


praise, especially because she was very fond of her grand- 
daughters, the little Sea-princesses. ‘These were six pretty ~ 
children ; but the youngest was the most beautiful of all. 
Her skin was as clear and as fine as a rose leaf; her eyes 
were as blue as the deepest sea ; but, like all the rest, she had 
no feet, for her body ended in a fish-tail. 

All day long they could play in the castle, down in the 
halls, where living flowers grew out of the walls. The great 
amber windows were opened, and then the fishes swam in to 
them, just as the swallows fly in to us when we open our win- 
dows ; but the fishes swam straight up to the Princesses, ate 
out of their hands, and let themselves be stroked. 

Outside the castle was a great garden with bright red and 
dark blue flowers ; the fruit glowed like gold, and the flowers 
like flames of fire; and they continually kept moving their 
stalks and leaves. ‘The earth itself was the finest sand, but 
blue as the flame of brimstone. A peculiar blue radiance lay 
upon everything down there : one would have thought oneself 
high in the air, with the canopy of heaven above and around, 
rather than at the bottom of the deep sea. During a calm 
the sun could be seen ; it appeared like a purple flower, from 
which all light streamed out. 

Each of the little Princesses had her own little place in the 
garden, where she might dig and plant at her good pleasure. 
One gave her flower-bed the form of a whale; another thought 
it better to make hers like a little sea-woman ; but the young- 
est made hers quite round, like the sun, and had flowers 
which gleamed red as the sun itself. She was a strange 
child, quiet and thoughtful ; and when the other sisters made 
a display of the beautiful things they had received out of 
wrecked ships, she would have nothing beyond the red flowers 
which resembled the sun, except a pretty marble statue. 
This was a figure of a charming boy, hewn out of white clear 
stone, which had sunk down to the bottom of the sea from a 
wreck. She planted a pink weeping willow beside this 
statue ; the tree grew famously, and hung its fresh branches 
over the statue towards the blue sandy ground, where the 
shadow showed violet, and moved like the branches them- 
selves ; it seemed as if the ends of the branches and the roots 
were playing together and wished to kiss each other. 


THE LITTLE SEA-MAID. 2A1 


There was no greater pleasure for her than to hear of the 
world of men above them. The old grandmother had to tell all 
she knew of ships and towns, of men and animals. It seemed 
particularly beautiful to her that up on the earth the flowers 
shed fragrance, for they had none down at the bottom of the 
sea, and that the trees were green, and that the fishes which 
one saw there among the trees could sing so loud and clear 
that it was a pleasure to hear them. What the grandmother 
called fishes were the little birds ; the Princess could not un- 
derstand them in any other way, for she had never seen a bird. 

“When you have reached your fifteenth year,” said the 
grandmother, “you shall have leave to rise up out of the sea, 
to sit on the rocks in the moonlight, and to see the great ships 
as they sail by. Then you will see forests and towns!” 

In the next year one of the sisters was fifteen years of age, 
but each of the others was one year younger than the next ; 
so that the youngest had full five years to wait before she 
could come up from the bottom of the sea, and find how our 
world looked. But one promised to tell the others what she 
had seen and what she had thought the most beautiful on the 
first day of her visit; for their grandmother could not tell 
them enough —there was so much about which they wanted 
information. 

No one was more anxious about these things than the 
youngest — just that one who had the longest time to wait, 
and who was always quiet and thoughtful. Many a night she 
stood by the open window, and looked up through the dark 
blue water at the fishes splashing with their fins and tails. 
Moon and stars she could see; they certainly shone quite 
faintly, but through the water they looked much larger than 
they appear in our eyes. When something like a black cloud 
passed among them, she knew that it was either a whale swim- 
ming over her head, or a ship with many people: they cer- 
tainly did not think that a pretty little sea-maid was standing 
down below stretching up her white hands toward the keel 
of their ship. 

Now the eldest Princess was fifteen years old, and might 
mount up to the surface of the sea. 


When she came back, she had a hundred things to tell, — 
16 


242 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


but the finest thing, she said, was to lie in the moonshine on 
a sand-bank in the quiet sea, and to look at the neighboring 
coast, with the large town, where the lights twinkled like a 
hundred stars, and to hear the music and the noise and 
clamor of carriages and men, to see the many church stee- 
ples, and to hear the sound of the bells. Just because she 
could not get up to these, she longed for them more than for 
anything. 

O how the youngest sister listened! and afterwards when 
she stood at the open window and looked up through the 
dark-blue water, she thought of the great city with all its 
bustle and noise ; and then she thought. she could hear the 
church bells ringing, even down to the depth where she was. 

In the following year, the second sister received permission 
to mount upward through the water and to swim whither she 
pleased. She rose up just as the sun was setting; and this 
spectacle, she said, was the most beautiful. The whole sky 
looked like gold, and as to the clouds, she could not properly 
describe their beauty. They sailed away over her head, pur- 
ple and violet-colored, but far quicker than the clouds there 
flew a flight of wild swans, like a long white veil, over the 
water toward where the sun stood. She swam toward them ; 
but the sun sank, and the roseate hue faded on the sea and 
in the clouds. 

In the following year the next sister went up. She was the 
boldest of them all, and therefore she swam up a broad stream 
that poured its waters into the sea. She saw glorious green 
hills clothed with vines ; palaces and castles shone forth from 
amid splendid woods ; she heard how all the birds sang ; and 
the sun shone so warm that she was often obliged to dive 
under the water to cool her glowing face. In a little bay she 
found a whole swarm of little mortals. They were quite 
naked, and splashed about in the water: she wanted to play 
with them, but they fled in affright, and a little black animal 
came, — it was a dog, but she had never seen a dog, — and it 
barked at her so terribly that she became frightened, and 
tried to gain the open sea. But she could never forget the 
glorious woods, the green hills, and the pretty children, who 
could swim in the water, though they had not fish-tails. 


THE LITTLE SEA-MAID 243 


The fourth sister was not so bold: she remained out in the 
midst of the wild sea, and declared that just there it was most 
beautiful. One could see for many miles around, and the sky 
above looked like a bell of glass. She had seen ships, but 
only in the far distance — they looked like sea-gulls ; and the 
funny dolphins had thrown somersaults, and the great whales 
spouted out water from their nostrils, so that it looked like 
hundreds of fountains all around. 

Now came the turn of the fifth sister. Her birthday came 
in the winter, and so she saw what the others had not seen 
the first time. “The sea looked quite green, and great ice- 
bergs were floating about ; each one appeared like a pearl, 
she said, and yet was much taller than the church steeples 
built by men. They showed themselves in the strangest 
forms, and shone like diamonds. She had seated _ herself 
upon one of the greatest of all, and let the wind play with her 
long hair ; and all the sailing ships tacked about in a very 
rapid way beyond where she sat: but toward evening the 
sky became covered with clouds, it thundered and lightened, 
and the black waves lifted the great ice-blocks high up, and 
let them glow in the red glare. On all the ships the sails 
were reefed, and there was fear and anguish. But she sat 
quietly upon her floating iceberg, and saw the forked blue 
flashes dart into the sea. 

Each of the sisters, as she came up for the first time to the 
surface of the water, was delighted with the new and beautiful 
sights she saw ; but as they now had permission, as grown-up 
girls, to go whenever they liked, it became indifferent to them. 
They wished themselves back again, and after a month had 
elapsed they said it was best of all down below, for there one 
felt so comfortably at home. 

Many an evening hour the five sisters took one another by 
the arm and rose up in a row over the water.. They had 
splendid voices, more charming than any mortal could have ; 
and when a storm was approaching, so that they could ap- 
prehend that ships would go down, they swam on before the 
ships and sang lovely songs, which told how beautiful it was 
at the bottom of the sea, and exhorted the sailors not to be 
afraid to come down. But these could not understand the 


244 ANDERSEN'S WONDER STORIES. 


words, and thought it was the storm sighing; and they did 
not see the splendors below, for if the ships sank they were 
drowned, and came as corpses to the Sea-king’s palace. 

When the sisters thus rose up, arm in arm, in the evening 
time, through the water, the little sister stood all alone look- 
ing after them ; and she felt as if she must weep ; but the sea- 
maid has no tears, and for this reason she suffers far more 
acutely. 

“© if I were only fifteen years old!” said she. “I know 
I shall love the world up there very much, and the people 
who live and dwell there.” : 

At last she was really fifteen years old. 

“ Now, you see, you are grown up,” said the grandmother, 
the old dowager. ‘Come, let me adorn you like your sis- 
ters.” 

And she put a wreath of white lilies in the Hhttle maid’s 
hair, but each flower was half a pearl ; and the old lady let 
eight great oysters attach themselves to the Princess’s tail, 
in token of her high rank. 

“ But that hurts so!” said the httle Sea-maid. 

“Yes, pride must suffer pain,” replied the old lady. 

O how glad she would have been to shake off all the 
tokens of rank and lay aside the heavy wreath! Her red 
flowers in the garden suited her better; but she could not 
help it. ‘ Farewell!’ she said, and then she rose, hght and 
clear as a water-bubble, up through the sea. 

The sun had just set when she lifted her head above the 
sea, but all the clouds still shone like roses and gold, and in 
the pale red sky the evening-stars gleamed bright and beau- 
tiful. The air was mild and fresh, and the sea quite calm. 
There lay a great ship with three masts ; one single sail only 
was set, for not a breeze stirred, and around in the shrouds 
and on the yards sat the sailors. There was music and sing- 
ing, and as the evening closed in, hundreds of colored lan- 
terns were lighted up, and looked as if the flags of every 
nation were waving in the air. The little Sea-maid swam 
straight to the cabin window, and each time the sea lifted her 
up, she could look through the panes, which were clear as 
crystal, and see many people standing within dressed in their 


THE LITTLE SEA-MATD. 245 


best. But the handsomest of all was the young Prince with the 
great black eyes: he was certainly not much more than six- 
teen years old; it was his birthday, and that was the cause 
of all this feasting. The sailors were dancing upon deck ; and 
when the young Prince came out, more than a hundred 
rockets rose into the air; they shone like day, so that the 
little Sea-maid was quite startled, and dived under the water ; 
but soon she put out her head again, and then it seemed just 
as if all the stars of heaven were falling down upon her. She 
had never seen such fire-works. Great suns spurted fire all 
around, glorious fiery fishes flew up into the blue air, and 
everything was mirrored in the clear blue sea. The ship 
itself was so brightly lit up that every separate rope could be 
seen, and the people therefore appeared the more plainly. 
O how handsome the young Prince was! And he pressed 
the people’s hands and smiled, while the music rang. out in 
the glorious night. 

It became late ; but the little Sea-maid could not turn her 
eyes from the ship and from the beautiful Prince. ‘The col- 
ored lanterns were extinguished, rockets ceased to fly into 
the air, and no more cannons were fired; but there was a 
murmuring and a buzzing deep down in the sea; and she 
sat on the water, swaying up and down, so that she could 
look into the cabin. But as the ship got more way, one sail 
after another was spread. And now the waves rose higher, 
great clouds came up, and in the distance there was lightning. 
O! it was going to be fearful weather, therefore the sailors 
furled the sails. The great ship flew in swift career over the 
wild sea: the waters rose up like great black mountains, 
which wanted to roll over the masts ; but like a swan the ship 
dived into the valleys between these high waves, and then let 
itself be lifted on high again, To the little Sea-maid this 
seemed merry sport, but to the sailors it appeared very differ- 
ently. The ship groaned and creaked ; the thick planks were 
bent by the heavy blows; the sea broke into the ship ; the 
mainmast snapped in two like a thin reed; and the ship lay 
over on her side, while the water rushed into the hold. Now 
the little Sea-maid saw that the people were in peril; she 
herself was obliged to take care to avoid the beams and frag- 


246 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


ments of the ship which were floating about on the waters. 
One moment it was so pitch dark that not a single object 
could be descried, but when it lightened it became so bright 
that she could distinguish every one on board. She looked 
particularly for the young Prince, and when the ship parted 
she saw him sink into the sea. ‘Then she was very glad, for 
now he would come down to her. But then she remembered 
that people could not live in the water, and that when he got 
down to her father’s palace he would certainly be dead. No, 
he must not die: so she swam about among the beams and 
planks that strewed the surface, quite forgetting that one of 
them might have crushed her. Diving down deep under the 
water, she again rose high up among the waves, and in this 
way she at last came to the Prince, who could scarcely swim 
longer in that stormy sea. His arms and legs began to fail 
him, his beautiful eyes closed, and he would have died had 
the little Sea-maid not come. She held his head up over the 
water, and then allowed the waves to carry her and him 
whither they listed. 

When the morning came the storm had passed by. Of 
the ship not a fragment was to be seen. The sun came up 
red and shining out of the water; it was as if its beams 
brought back the hue of life to the cheeks of the Prince, but 
his eyes remained closed. The Sea-maid kissed his high, 
fair forehead and put back his wet hair, and he seemed to 
her to be like the marble statue in her little garden: she 
kissed him again and hoped that he might live. 

Now she saw in front of her the dry land — high blue moun- 
tains, on whose summits the white snow gleamed as if swans 
were lying there. Down on the coast were glorious green 
forests, and a building — she could not tell whether it was a 
church or a convent—stood there. In its garden grew 
orange and citron-trees, and high palms waved in front of the 
gate. The sea formed a little bay there ; it was quite calm, 
but very deep. Straight toward the rock where the fine 
white sand had been cast up, she swam with the handsome 
Prince, and laid him upon the sand, taking especial care that 
his head was raised in the warm sunshine. 

Now all the bells rang in the great white building, and 


THE LITTLE SEA-MAID. 247 


siany young girls came walking through the garden. Then 
the little Sea-maid swam farther out. between some high stones 
that stood up out of the water, laid some sea-foam upon her 
hair and neck, so that no one could see her little countenance, 
and then she watched to see who would come to the poor 
Prince. 

In a short time a young girl went that way. She seemed 
to be much startled, but only for a moment ; then she brought 
more people, and the Sea-maid perceived that the Prince 
came back to life, and that he smiled at all around him. But 
he did not cast a smile at her: he did not know that she had 
saved him. And she felt very sorrowful ; and when he was 
led away into the great building, she dived mournfully under 
the water and returned to her father’s palace. 

She had always been gentle and melancholy, but now she 
became much more so. Her sisters asked her what she had 
seen the first time she rose up to the surface, but she would 
tell them nothing. 

Many an evening and many a morning she went up to the 
place where she had left the Prince. She saw how the fruits 
of the garden grew ripe and were gathered ; she saw how 
the snow melted on the high mountain ; but she did not see 
the Prince, and so she always returned home more sorrowful 
still. Then her only comfort was to sit in her little garden, 
and to wind her arm round the beautiful marble statue that 
resembled the Prince ; but she did not tend her flowers ; they 
grew as if in a wilderness over the paths, and trailed their 
long leaves and stalks up into the branches of trees, so that 
it became quite dark there. 

At last she could endure it no longer, and told all to one 
of her sisters, and then the others heard of it too ; but nobody 
knew of it beyond these and a few other sea-maids, who told 
the secret to their intimate friends. One of these knew who 
the Prince was; she too had seen the festival on board the 
ship ; and she announced whence he came and where his 
kingdom lay. 

“Come, little sister!” said the other -Princesses ; and, 
linking their arms together, they rose up in a long row out of 
the sea, at the place where they knew the Prince’s palace lay. 


248 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


This palace was built of a kind of bright yellow stone, with 
ereat marble staircases, one of which led directly down into 
the sea. Over the roof rose splendid gilt cupolas, and be- 
tween the pillars which surrounded the whole dwelling, stood 
marble statues which looked as if they were alive. Through 
the clear glass in the high windows one looked into the glo- 
rious halls, where costly silk hangings and tapestries were 
hung up, and all the walls were decked with splendid pic- 
tures, so that it was a perfect delight to see them. In the 
midst of the greatest of these halls a great fountain plashed ; 
its jets shot high up toward the glass dome in the ceiling, 
through which the sun shone down upon the water and upon 
the lovely plants growing in the great basin. 

Now she knew where he lived, and many an evening and 
many a night she spent there on the water. She swam far 
closer to the land than any of the others would have dared 
to venture ; indeed, she went quite up the narrow channel 
under the splendid marble balcony, which threw a broad 
shadow upon the water. Here she sat and watched the 
young Prince, who thought himself quite alone in the bright 
moonlight. 

Many an evening she saw him sailing, amid the sounds of 
music, in his costly boat with the waving flags; she peeped 
up through the green reeds, and when the wind caught her 
silver-white veil, and any one saw it, he thought it was a 
white swan spreading out its wings. 

Many a night when the fishermen were on the sea with 
their torches, she heard much good told of the young Prince ; 
and she rejoiced that she had saved his life when he was 
driven about, half dead, on the wild billows: she thought how 
quietly his head had reclined on her bosom, and how heartily 
she had kissed him; but he knew nothing of it, and could 
not even dream of her. 

More and more she began to love mankind, and more and 
more she wished to be able to wander about among those 
whose world seemed far larger than her own. For they could 
fly over the sea in ships, and mount up the high hills far 
above the clouds, and the lands they possessed stretched out 
in woods and fields farther than her eyes could reach. There 


THE LITTLE SEA-MAID. 249 


was much she wished to know, but her sisters could not 
answer all her questions ; therefore she applied to the old 
grandmother ; and the old lady knew the upper world, which 
she rightly called “the countries above the sea,” very well. 

“Tf people are not drowned,” asked the little Sea-maid, 
“can they live forever? Do they not die as we die down 
herevimthe sea?” 

Ves,” replied the old lady. ‘They too must die, and 
their life is even shorter than ours. We can live to be three 
hundred years old, but when we cease to exist here, we are 
turned into foam on the surface of the water, and have not 
even a grave down here among those we love. We have not 
an immortal soul ; we never receive another life ; we are like 
the green sea-weed, which, when once cut through, can never 
bloom again. Men, on the contrary, have a soul which lives 
forever, which lives on after the body has become dust; it 
mounts up through the clear air, up to all the shining stars! 
As we rise up out of the waters and behold all the lands of 
the earth, so they rise up to unknown glorious places which 
we can never see.” 

“Why did we not receive an immortal soul?” asked the 
little Sea-maid, sorrowfully. “I would gladly give all the 
hundreds of years I have to live to be a human being only for 
one day, and to have a hope of partaking the heavenly king- 
dom.” 

“You must not think of that,” replied the old lady. “We 
feel ourselves far more happy and far better than mankind 
yonder.” 

‘“ Then I am to die and be cast as foam upon the sea, not 
hearing the music of the waves, nor seeing the pretty flowers 
and the red sun? .Can I not do anything to win an immortal 
soul?” 

“No!” answered the grandmother. “Only if a man were 
to love you so that you should be more to him than father or 
mother ; if he should cling to you with his every thought and 
with all his love, and let the priest lay his right hand in yours 
with a promise of faithfulness here and in all eternity, then his 
soul would be imparted to your body, and you would receive 
a share of the happiness of mankind. He would give a soul 


250 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


to you and yet retain his own. But that can never come tu 
pass. What is considered beautiful here in the sea — the fish- 
tail—they would consider ugly on the earth: they don’t un- 
derstand it ; there one must have two clumsy supports which 
they call legs, to be called beautiful.” 

Then the little Sea-maid sighed and looked mournfully 
upon her fish-tail. 

“Let us be glad!” said the old lady. ‘Let us dance and 
leap in the three hundred years we have to live. That is cer- 
tainly long enough ; after that we can rest ourselves all the 
better. This evening we shall have a court ball.” 

It was a splendid sight, such as is never seen on earth. 
The walls and the ceiling of the great dancing-saloon were of 
thick but transparent glass. Several hundreds of huge shells, 
pink and grass-green, stood on each side in rows, filled with a 
blue fire which lit up the whole hall and shone through the 
walls, so that the sea without was quite lit up ; one could see all 
the innumerable fishes, great and small, swimming toward the 
glass walls ; of some the scales gleamed with purple, while in 
others they shone like silver and gold. Through the midst of 
the hall flowed a broad stream, and on this the sea-men and 
sea-women danced to their own charming songs. Such beautiful 
voices the people of the earth have not. The little Sea-maid 
sang the most sweetly of all, and the whole court applauded 
with hands and tails, and for a moment she felt gay in her 
heart, for she knew she had the loveliest voice of all in the 
sea or on the earth. But soon she thought again of the world 
above her; she could not forget the charming Prince, or her 
sorrow at not having animmortal soul like his. Therefore she 
crept out of her father’s palace, and while everything within 
was joy and gladness, she sat melancholy in her little garden. © 
Then she heard the bugle horn sounding through the waters, 
and thought, “ Now he is certainly sailing above, he on whom 
my wishes hang, and in whose hand I should like to lay my 
life’s happiness. I will dare everything to win him and an 
- immortal soul. While my sisters dance yonder in my father’s 
palace, I will go to the sea-witch of whom I have always been 
so much afraid: perhaps she can counsel and help me.” 

Now the little Sea-maid went out of her garden to the foam. 


Ldife La TILE SIA-MA LD. 251 


ing whirlpools behind which the sorceress dwelt. She had 
never travelled that way before. No flowers grew there, no 
sea-grass ; only the naked gray sand stretched out teward the 
whirlpools, where the water rushed round like roaring mill- 
wheels and tore down everything it seized into the deep. 
Through the midst of these rushing whirlpools she was obliged 
to pass to get into the domain of the witch; and for a long 
way there was no other road except one which led over warm 
gushing mud: this the witch called her turfmoor. Behind 
it lay her house in the midst of a singular forest, in which all 
the trees and bushes were polyps — half animals, half plants. 
They looked like hundred-headed snakes growing up out of 
the earth. All the branches were long, slimy arms, with fingers 
like supple worms, and they moved limb by limb from the root 
to the farthest point ; all that they could seize on in the water 
they held fast and did not let it go. The little Sea-maid 
stopped in front of them quite frightened ; her heart beat 
with fear, and she was near turning back; but then she 
thought of the Prince and the human soul, and her courage 
came back again. She bound her long, flying hair closely 
around her head, so that the polyps might not seize it. She 
put her hands together on her breast, and then shot forward, 
as a fish shoots through the water, among the ugly polyps, 
which stretched out their supple arms and fingers after her. 
She saw that each of them held something it had seized with 
hundreds of little arms, like strong iron bands. People who 
had perished at sea, and had sunk deep down, looked forth as 
white skeletons from among the polyps’ arms; ships’ oars 
and chests they also held fast, and skeletons of land animals, 
and a little sea-woman whom they had caught and strangled ; 
and this seemed the most terrible of all to our little Princess. 

Now she came to a great marshy place in the wood, where 
fat water-snakes rolled about, showing their ugly cream- 
colored bodies. In the midst of this marsh was a house 
built of white bones of shipwrecked men; there sat the Sea- 
witch, feeding a toad out of her mouth, just as a person might 
feed a little canary-bird with sugar. She called the ugly fat 
water-snakes her little chickens, and allowed them to crawl 
upward and all about her. 


252 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


‘‘T know what you want,” said the Sea-witch. “It is stupid 
of you, but you shall have your way, for it will bring you to 
grief, my pretty Princess. You want to get rid of your fish- 
tail, and to have two supports instead of it, like those the peo- 
ple of the earth walk with, so that the young Prince may fall 
in love with you, and you may get an immortal soul.” And 
with this the Witch laughed loudly and disagreeably, so that 
the toad and the water-snakes tumbled down to the ground, 
where they crawled about. “ You come just in time,” said the 
Witch : “after to-morrow at sunrise I could not help you until 
another year had gone by. I will prepare a draught for you, 
with which you must swim to land to-morrow before the sun 
rises, and seat yourself there and drink it ; then your tail will 
shrivel up and become what the people of the earth call legs ; 
but it will hurt you—it will seem as if you were cut with a 
sharp sword. All who see you will declare you to be the pret- 
tiest human being they ever beheld. You will keep your 
graceful walk ; no dancer will be able to move so lightly as 
you ; but every step you take will be as if you trod upon 
sharp knives, and as if your blood must flow. If you will 
bear all this, I can help you.” 

“Yes!” said the little Sea-maid, with a trembling voice ; 
and she thought of the Prince and the immortal soul. 

“But remember,” said the Witch, “ when you have once re- 
ceived a human form, you can never be a sea-maid again ; 
you can never return through the water to your sisters, or to 
your father’s palace ; and if you do not win the Prince’s love, 
so that he forgets father and mother for your sake, is attached 
to you heart and soul, and tells the priest to join your hands, 
you will not receive an immortal soul. On the first morning 
after he has married another, your heart will break, and you 
will become foam on the water.” 

‘TI will do it,” said the little Sea-maid ; but she became as 
pale as death. 

“But you must pay me, too,” said the Witch ; “and it is not 
a trifle that I ask. You have the finest. voice of all here at 
the bottom of the water ; with that you think to enchant him ; 
but this voice you must give tome. The best thing you pos- 
sess I will have for my costly draught! I must give you my 


FHE LITTLE SEA-MAlD. 252 


own blood in it, so that the draught may be sharp as a two- 
edged sword.” | 

“But if you take away my voice,” said the little Sea-maid, 
“what will remain to me?” | 

“Your beautiful form,” replied the Witch, “your graceful 
walk, and your speaking eyes: with those you can take cap- 
tive a human heart. Well, have you lost your courage? Put 
out your little tongue, and then I will cut it off for my pay- 
ment, and then you shall have the strong draught.” 

“ It shall be so,” said the little Sea-maid. 

And the Witch put on her pot to brew the draught. 

“Cleanliness is a good thing,” said she ; and she cleaned 
out the pot with the snakes, which she tied up in a big knot ; 
then she scratched herself, and let her black blood drop into 
it. The stream rose up in the strangest forms, enough to 
frighten the beholder. Every moment the Witch threw some- 
thing else into the pot ; and when it boiled thoroughly, there 
was a sound like the weeping of a crocodile. At last the 
draught was ready. It looked like the purest water. 

“There you have it,” said the Witch. 

And she cut off the little Sea-maid’s tongue, so that now 
the Princess was dumb, and could neither sing nor speak. 

She could see her father’s palace. The torches were extin- 
guished in the great hall, and they were certainly sleeping 
within, but she did not dare to go to them, now that she was 
dumb and was about to quit them forever. She felt as if her 
heart would burst with sorrow. She crept into the garden, 
took a flower from each bed of her sisters, blew a thousand 
kisses toward the palace, and rose up through the dark blue, 
sea. = 

The sun had not yet risen when she beheld the Prince’s 
castle, and mounted the splendid marble staircase. The moon 
shone beautifully clear. The little Sea-maid drank the burn- 
ing sharp draught, and it seemed as if a two-edged sword 
went through her delicate body. She fell down in a swoon, 
and lay as if she were dead. When the sun shone out over 
the sea she awoke, and telt a sharp pain ; but just before her 
stood the handsome young Prince. He fixed his coal-black 
eyes upon her, so that she cast down her own, and then she 


254 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


perceived that her fish-tail was gone, and that she had the 
prettiest pair of white feet a little girl could have. But she 
had no clothes, so she shrouded herself in her long hair. 
The Prince asked how she came there ; and she looked at 
him mildly, but very mournfully, with her dark-blue eyes, for 
she could not speak. ‘Then he took her by the hand, and led 
her into the castle. Each step she took was, as the Witch had 
told her, as if she had been treading on pointed needles and 
knives, but she bore it gladly. At the Prince’s right hand 
she moved on, light as a soap-bubble, and he, like all the rest, 
was astonished at her graceful, swaying movements. 

She now received splendid clothes of silk and muslin. In 
the castle she was the most beautiful creature to be seen ; but 
she was dumb, and could neither sing nor speak. Lovely 
slaves, dressed in silk and gold, stepped forward, and sang 
before the Prince and his royal parents; one sang more 
charmingly than all the rest, and the Prince smiled at her and 
clapped his hands. Then the little Sea-maid became sad ; 
she knew that she herself had sung far more sweetly, and 
thought, — 

“O! that he only knew I had given away my voice forever 
to be with him!” 

Now the slaves danced pretty waving dances to the loveli- 
est music ; then the little Sea-maid lifted her beautiful white 
arms, stood on the tips of her toes, and glided dancing over 
the floor as no one had yet danced. At each movement her 
beauty became more apparent, and her eyes spoke more di- 
rectly to the heart than the songs of the slaves. 

All were delighted, and especially the Prince, who called 
her his little foundling; and she danced again and again, al- 
though every time she touched the earth it seemed as if she 
were treading upon sharp knives. ‘The Prince said that she 
should always remain with him, and she received permission 
to sleep on a velvet cushion before his door. 

He had a page’s dress made for her, that she might ac- 
company him on horseback. They rcde through the blooming 
woods, where the green boughs swept their shoulders, and the 
little birds sang in the fresh leaves. She climbed with the 
Prince up the high mountains, and although her delicate feet 


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———— 
——— 


THE LITTLE SEA-MAID. O57 


bled so that even the others could see it, she laughed at it 
herself, and followed him until they saw the clouds sailing be- 
neath them, like a flock of birds travelling to distant lands. 

At home in the Prince’s castle, when the others slept at 
night, she went out on to the broad marble steps. It cooled 
her burning feet to stand in the cold sea-water, and. then she 
thought of the dear ones in the deep. 

Once, in the night-time, her sisters came, arm in arm. 
Sadly they sang as they floated above the water; and she 
beckoned to them, and they recognized her, and told her how 
she had grieved them all. Then she visited them every 
night ; and once she saw in the distance her old grandmother, 
who had not been above the surface for many years, and the 
Sea-king with his crown upon his head. ‘They stretched out 
their hands toward her, but did not venture so near the land 
as her sisters. 

_ Day by day the Prince grew more fond of her. He loved 
her as one loves a dear, good child, but it never came into his 
head to make her his wife; and yet she must become his 
wife, or she would not receive an immortal soul, and would 
have to become foam on the sea on his marriage morning. 

“Do you not love me best of them all?” the eyes of the 
little Sea-maid seemed to say, when he took her in his arms 
and kissed her fair forehead. 

fees yOurare the dearest. to me!’ said the Prince, “for 
you have the best heart of them all. You are the most de- 
voted to me, and are like a young girl whom I once saw, but 
whom I certainly shall not find again. I was on board a 
ship which was wrecked. The waves threw me ashore near a 
holy temple, where several young girls performed the service. 
The youngest of them found me by the shore and saved my 
life. I only sav her twice: she was the only one in the world 
I could love ; but you chase her picture out of my mind, you 
are so like her. She belongs to the holy temple, and there- 
fore my good fortune has sent you to me. We will never 
part!” 

“Ah! he does not know that I saved his life,” thought the 
little Sea-maid. “I carried him over the sea to the wood 
where the temple stands. I sat there under the foam and 

17 


258 ANDERSEN'S WONDER STORIES. 


looked to see if any one would come. I saw the beautiful 
girl whom he loves better than me.” And the Sea-maid 
sighed deeply —she could not weep. ‘The maiden belongs 
to the holy temple,” she said, ‘and will never come out into 
the world — they will meet no more. I am with him and see 
him every day ; I will cherish him, love him, give up my life 
for him.” 

But now they said that the Prince was to marry, and that 
the beautiful daughter of a neighboring King was to be his 
wife, and that was why such a beautiful ship was being pre- 
pared. The story was, that the Prince travelled to visit the 
land of the neighboring King, but it was done that he might 
see the King’s daughter. A great company was to go with 
him. ‘The little Sea-maid shook her head and smiled ; she 
knew the Prince’s thoughts far better than any of the others. 

‘IT must travel,” he had said to her ; ‘I must see the beau- 
tiful Princess: my parents desire it, but they do not wish to 
compel me to bring her home as my bride. I cannot love 
her. She is not like the beautiful maiden in the temple 
whom you resemble. If I were to choose a bride, I would 
rather choose you, my dear dumb foundling with the speaking 
eyes.” 

And he kissed her red lips and played with her long hair, 
so that she dreamed of happiness and of an immortal soul. 

“You are not afraid of the sea, my dumb child?” said he, 
when they stood on the superb ship which was to carry him to 
the country of the neighboring King; and he told her of 
storm and calm, of strange fishes in the deep, and of what the 
divers had seen there. And she smiled at his tales, for she 
knew better than any one what happened at the bottom of the 
sea. | 
In the moonlight night, when all were asleep, except the 
steersman who stood by the helm, she sat on the side of the 
ship gazing down through the clear water. She fancied she 
saw her father’s palace. High on the battlements stood her 
old grandmother, with the silver crown on her head, and look- 
ing through the rushing tide up to the vessel’s keel. Then 
her sisters came forth over the water, and looked .mournfully 
at her and wrung their white hands. She beckoned to them, 


THE LITTLE SEA-MAID. 259 


smiled, and wished to tell them that she was well and happy ; 
but the cabin-boy approached her and her sisters dived down, 
so that he thought the white objects he had seen were foam 
on the surface of the water. 

The next morning the ship sailed into the harbor of the 
neighboring King’s splendid city. All the church bells 
sounded, and from the high towers the trumpets were blown, 
while the soldiers stood there with flying colors and flashing 
bayonets. Each day brought some festivity with it; balls 
and entertainments followed one another ; but the Princess 
was not yet there. People said she was being educated in a 
holy temple far away, where she was learning every royal 
virtue. At last she arrived. . 

The little Sea-maid was anxious to see the beauty of the 
Princess, and was obliged to acknowledge it. A more lovely 
apparition she had never beheld. The Princess’s skin was 
pure and clear, and behind the long dark eyelashes there 
smiled a pair of faithful, dark-blue eyes. 

“You are the lady who saved me when I lay like a corpse 
upon the shore!” said the Prince ; and he folded his blush- 
ing bride to his heart. ‘O, I am too, too happy!” he cried 
to the little Sea-maid. ‘“ The best hope I could have is ful- 
filled. You'will rejoice at my happiness, for you are the most 
devoted to me of them all!” . 

And the little Sea-maid kissed his hand ; and it seemed al- 
ready to her as if her heart was broken, for his wedding morn- 
ing was to bring death to her, and change her into foam on 
the sea. 

All the church bells were ringing, and heralds rode about 
the streets announcing the betrothal. On every altar fragrant 
oil was burning in gorgeous lamps of silver. The priests 
swung their censers, and bride and bridegroom laid hand in 
hand, and received the bishop’s blessing. ‘The little Sea-maid 
was dressed in cloth of gold, and held up the bride’s train ; 
but her ears heard nothing of the festive music, her eye 
marked not the holy ceremony ; she thought of the night of 
her death, and of all that she had lost in this world. 

On the same evening the bride and bridegroom went on 
board the ship. The cannon roared, all the flags waved ; in 


260 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


the midst of the ship a costly tent of gold and purple, with the 
most beautiful cushions, had been set up, and there the mar- 
ried pair were to sleep in the cool, still night. 

The sails swelled in the wind, and the ship glided smoothly 
and lightly over the clear sea. When it grew dark, colored 
lamps were lighted and the sailors danced merry dances on 
deck. The little Sea-maid thought of the first time when she 
had risen up out of the sea, and beheld a similar scene of 
splendor and joy; and she joined in the whirling dance, and 
flitted on as the swallow flits away when he is pursued ; and 
all shouted and admired her, for she had danced so prettily. 
Her delicate feet were cut as if with knives, but she did not 
feel it, for her heart was wounded far more painfully. She 
knew this was the last evening on which she should see him 
for whom she had left her friends and her home, and had 
given up her beautiful voice, and had suffered unheard-of 
pains every day, while he was utterly unconscious of all. It 
was the last evening she should breathe the same air with 
him, and behold the starry sky and the deep sea ; and ever- 
lasting night without thought or dream awaited her, for she 
had no soul, and could win none. And everything was mer- 
riment and gladness on the ship till past midnight, and she 
laughed and danced with thoughts of death in her heart. The 
Prince kissed his beautiful bride, and she played with his 
raven hair, and hand in hand they went to rest in the splen- 
did tent. It became quiet on the ship ; only the helmsman 
stood by the helm, and the little Sea-maid leaned her white 
arms upon the bulwark and gazed out toward. the east for the 
morning dawn — the first ray, she knew, would kill her. Then 
she saw her sisters rising out of the flood ; they were pale, like 
herself; their long, beautiful hair no longer waved in the 
wind ; it had been cut off. 

“We have given it to the witch, that we might bring you 
help, so that you may not die to-night. She has given us a 
knife ; here it is —look! how sharp! Before the sun rises 
you must thrust it into the heart of the Prince, and when the 
warm blood falls upon your feet they will grow together again 
into a fish-tail, and you will become a sea-maid again, and 
come back to us, and live your three hundred years before 


THE LITTLE SEA-MAID. 261 


you become dead salt sea-foam. Make haste! He or you 
must die before the sun rises! Our old grandmother mourns 
so that her white hair has fallen off, as ours did under the 
witch’s scissors. Kill the Prince and come back! Make 
haste! Do you see that red streak in the sky? In a few 
minutes the sun will rise, and you must die !-” 

And they gave a very mournful sigh, and vanished beneath 
the waves. The little Sea-maid drew back the curtain from the 
tent, and saw the beautiful bride lying with her head on the 
Prince’s breast ; and she bent down and kissed his brow, and 
gazed up to the sky where the morning red was gleaming 
brighter and brighter; then she looked at the sharp knife, 
and again fixed her eyes upon the Prince, who in his sleep 
murmured his bride’s name. She only was in his thoughts, 
and the knife trembled in the Sea-maid’s hand. But then 
she flung it far away into the waves—they gleamed red 
where it fell, and it seemed as if drops of blood spurted up 
out of the water. Once more she looked with half-extin- 
guished eyes upon the Prince ; then she threw herself from 
the ship into the sea, and felt her frame dissolving into foam. 

Now the sun rose up out of the sea. ‘The rays fell mild 
and warm upon the cold sea-foam, and the little Sea-maid felt 
nothing of death. She saw the bright sun, and over her head 
sailed hundreds of glorious ethereal beings—she could see 
‘them through the white sails of the ship and the red clouds 
of the sky ; their speech was melody, but of such a spiritual 
kind that no human ear could hear it, just as no human eye 
could see them ; without wings they floated through the air. 
The little Sea-maid found that she had a frame like these, and 
was rising more and more out of the foam. 

“ Whither am I going?” she asked ; and her voice sounded 
like that of the other beings, so spiritual, that no earthly 
music could be compared to it. | 

“To the daughters of the air!” replied the others. “A 
sea-maid has no immortal soul, and can never gain one, ex- 
tept she win the love of a mortal. Her eternal existence de- 
pends upon the power of another. The daughters of the air 
have likewise no immortal soul, but they can make themselves 
one through good deeds. We fly to the hot countries, where 


262 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


the close, pestilent air kills men, and there we bring coolness. - 
We disperse the fragrance of the flowers through the air, and 
spread refreshment and health. After we have striven for 
three hundred years to accomplish all the good we can bring 
about, we receive an immortal soul, and take part in the eter- 
nal happiness of men. You, poor little Sea-maid, have striven 
with your whole heart after the goal we pursue ; you have 
suffered and endured ; you have by good works raised your- 
self to the world of spirits, and can gain an immortal soul 
after three hundred years.” 

And the little Sea-maid lifted her glorified eyes toward 
God’s sun, and for the first time she felt them fill with tears. 
On the ship there was again life and noise. She saw the 
Prince and his bride searching for her; then they looked 
mournfully at the pearly foam, as if they knew that she had 
thrown herself into the waves.. Invisible, she kissed the 
forehead of the bride, fanned the Prince, and mounted with 
the other children of the air on the rosy cloud which floated 
through the ether. After three hundred years we shall thus 
float into Paradise! 

‘““ And we may even get there sooner,” whispered a daughter 
of the air. ‘“‘ Invisibly we float into the houses of men where 
children are, and for every day on which we find a good child 
that brings joy to its parents and deserves their love, our time 
of probation is shortened. The child does not know when we’ 
fly through the room; and when we smile with joy at the 
child’s conduct, a year is counted off from the three hundred ; 
but when we see a naughty or a wicked child, we shed tears 
of grief, and for every tear a day is added to our time of 
trial.” 


FARM-YARD COCK AND WEATHER-COCK. 263 


THE FARM-YARD COCK AND THE WEATHER- 
COCK. 


HERE were two cocks — one on the dunghill, the other 

on the roof. Both were conceited; but which of the 

two did most? ‘Tell us your opinion ; but we shall keep our 
own, nevertheless. ; 

The poultry-yard was divided by a partition of boards from 
another yard, in-which lay a manure heap, and on it lay and 
grew a great cucumber, which was fully conscious of being a 
forcing-bed plant. 

“That’s a privilege of birth,” the Cucumber said to herself. 
“Not all can be born cucumbers: there must be other kinds 
too. The fowls, the ducks, and all the cattle in the neigh- 
boring yard are creatures too. I now look up to the Yard 
Cock on the partition. He certainly is of very much greater 
consequence than the Weather-cock, who is so highly placed, 
and who can’t even creak, much less crow ; and he has neither 
hens nor chickens, and thinks only of himself, and perspires 
verdigris. But the Yard Cock —he’s something like a cock! 
His gait is like a dance, his crowing is music ; and wherever 
he comes, it is known directly. What a trumpeter he is! - If 
he would only come in here! Even if he were to eat me up, 
stalk and all, it would be quite a blissful death,” said the 
Cucumber. 

In the night the weather became very bad. Hens, chick- 
ens, and even the Cock himself sought shelter. The wind 
blew down the partition between the two yards with a crash ; 
the tiles came tumbling down, but the Weather-cock sat firm. 
He did not even turn round; he could not turn round ; and; 
yet he was young and newly cast, but steady and sedate. He 
had been “born old,” and did not at all resemble the birds 
that fly beneath the vault of heaven, such as the sparrows 
and swallows. He despised those, considering them piping 
birds of trifling stature — ordinary song birds. The pigeons, 
he allowed, were big and shining, and gleamed like mother- 
o’-pearl, and looked like a kind of weather-cocks ; but then 


2 64 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


they were fat and stupid, and their whole endeavor was to 
fill themselves with food. 

“Moreover, they are such tedious things to converse with,” 
said the Weather-cock. 

The birds of passage had also paid a visit to the Weather- 
cock, and told him tales of foreign lands, — of airy caravans, 
and exciting robber stories ; of encounters with birds of prey ; 
and that was interesting for the first time, but the Weather- 
cock knew that afterwards they always repeated themselves, 
and that was tedious. 

“They are tedious, and all is tedious,” he said. ‘ No one 
is fit to associate with, and one and all of them are wearisome 
and stupid. The world is worth nothing,” he cried. “The 
whole thing is a stupidity.” 

The Weather-cock was what is called “used up ;” and that 
quality would certainly have made him interesting in the eyes 
of the Cucumber, if she had known it; but she had only 
eyes for the Yard Cock, who had now actually come into her 
own yard. 

The wind had blown down the plank, but the storm had 
passed over. x 

“ What do you think of /Za¢ crowing?” inquired the Yard 
Cock of his hens and chickens. “It was a little rough — the 
elegance was wanting.” 

And hens and chickens stepped upon the muck-heap, and 
the Cock strutted to and fro upon it like a knight. 

“Garden plant!” he cried out to the Cucumber; and in 
this one word she understood his deep feeling, and forgot 
that he was pecking at her and eating her up—a happy 
death ! 

And the hens came, and the chickens came, and when one 
of them runs the rest run also ; they clucked and chirped, and 
looked at the Cock, and were proud that he was of their kind. 

“ Cock-a-doodle-doo!” he crowed. “The chickens will 
grow up to be large fowls if I make a noise in the poultry- 
yard of the world.” 

And hens and chickens clucked and chirped, and the Cock 
told them a great piece of news : — 

“A cock can lay an egg; and do you know what there is 


FARM-YARD COCK AND WEATHER-COCK. 265 


in that egg? In that egg lies a basilisk. Men know that, 
and now you know it too—you know what is in me, and 
what a cock of the world I am.” 

And with this the Yard Cock flapped his wings, and made 
his comb swell up, and crowed again ; and all of them shud- 
dered —all the hens and the chickens ; but they were proud 
that one of their people should be such a cock of the world. 
They clucked and chirped, so that the Weather-cock heard 
it; and he heard it, but he never stirred. , 

“Tt’s all stupid stuff!” said a voice within the Weather- 
cock. “The Yard Cock does not lay eggs, and I am too 
lazy to lay any. If I liked, I could lay a wind-egg ; but the 
world is not worth a wind-egg. And now I don’t like even to 
sit here any longer.” 

And with this the Weather-cock broke off; but he did not 
kill the Yard Cock, though he intended to do so, as the 
hens declared. And what does the moral say ?— “ Better to 
crow than to be ‘used up’ and break off.” 


THE ELFIN MOUND. 


~“ EVERAL large lizards were running quickly into the cleft 
of an old tree; they could understand each other per- 
fectly, for they all spoke the lizard language. 

“What a noise there is in the old Elfin mound!” said one 
of the Lizards. “What a rumbling and uproar! For two 
nights I have not been able to close my eyes, and might just 
as well have had a toothache, for then I certainly should not 
have slept.” 

“There is a something going on there,” said the other Liz- 
ard. “They let the mound stand on four red poles till the 
crowing of the cock, to have it thoroughly aired ; and the El- 
fin damsels have learnt new dances, in which there is some 
stamping. A something is going on, I’m sure.” 

“Ves ; I have spoken to an earth-worm of my acquaintance,” 
said the third Lizard. “The Earth-worm came direct from the 
mound, where day and night he had been rummaging about in 
the ground. He had heard a good deal ; for he can see noth- 
ing, poor wretch, but eavesdropping and listening he under- 
stands to perfection. Visitors are expected at the Elfin 


THE ELFIN MOUND. 267 


mound ; visitors of rank, but who they were, the Earth-worm 
either would not or could not say. All the Jacks-o’-the lantern 
have been ordered to prepare a procession by torch-light ; and 
all the silver and gold, of which there is plenty in the Elfin 
mound, will be polished and laid in the moonshine.” 

“But who can the strangers be?” said all the Lizards. 
“What can be going on? Listen ! what a humming and buzz- 
ing !” 

At the same instant the Elfin mound opened, and an elderly 
Elfin damsel, without a back, but for the rest very respectably 
dressed, came tripping forth. It was the old Elfin King’s 
housekeeper ; she was distantly related to him, and wore an 
amber heart on her forehead. Her feet were so nimble — 
trip — trap — trip — trap! — how she skipped along, right 
away to the moor to the Night-raven. 

“You will be invited to the Elfin mound, and that to-night,” 
said she. ‘“ But would you not do usa great favor, and take 
charge of the invitations? As you do not give parties your- 
self, you must do us this service. Strangers of high rank are 
coming to us ; magicians of no small importance, let me tell 
you ; and so the old Elfin King wants to show himself off to 
advantage.” 

“Who is to be invited?” asked the Night raven. 

“Why, to the grand ball everybody may come ; men even, 
if they do but speak in their sleep, or are able to do something 
in our way. But the principal banquet is to be very select ; 
those of the first rank only are to be invited. I have hada 
long discussion with the Elfin King ; for, according to my no- 
tions, we cannot even ask ghosts. ‘The Sea-god and his 
daughters must be invited first ; ’tis true, they don’t much like 
coming on dry land, but they will have probably a wet stone 
to sit upon, or maybe something better still ; and then, I think, 
they will not refuse for this once. We must have the old 
Mountain Dwarfs of the first class, with tails ; the Elf of the 
Brook, and the Brownie ; and then, I think, we must not omit 
the Swart Elf, and the Skeleton Horse: they belong, it is true, 
to the clergy, who are not of our sort; however, ’tis their of- 
fice, and they are, moreover, nearly related to us, and are con- 
tinually paying us visits.” 


i 


258 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


“Caw!” said the Night-raven, and flew away to invite the 
company. 

The Elfin maidens were already dancing on the Elfin mound: 
they danced with long shawls, woven of haze and moonshine H 
and to all who like this sort of dancing, it seems pretty. In the 
centre of the Elfin mound was the great hall, splendidly orna- 
mented ; the floor was washed with moonshine, and the walls 
were rubbed with witches’ fat, so that they shone in the light 
like tulip-leaves. In the kitchen there was a great quantity 
of frogs among the dishes ; adders’ skins, with little children’s 
fingers’ inside ; salad of mushroom-seed ; wet mice’s snouts 
and hemlock ; beer, from the brewery of the old Witch of the 
Moor ; sparkling saltpetre wine from a grave-cellar, — all very 
substantial eating: rusty nails and church-window glass were 
among the delicacies and kickshaws. 

The old Elfin King had his golden crown polished with 
powdered slate-pencil. It was the pencil of the head-scholar ; 
and to obtain this one is very difficult for the Elfin King. 

They hung up the curtains in the bed-chamber, and fastened 
them with adder spittle. There was, indeed, a humming and 
a buzzing in the Elfin mound! 

“Now we must perfume the place with singed hair and pig’s 
bristles ; and then I think I shall have done my share of the 
business,” said the little Elfin damsel. . 

“‘ Dear papa,” said the least of the daughters, “ shall I now 
know who the high visitors are?” 

‘Well then,” said he, “I suppose I must tell you. Two of 
my daughters are to show themselves off, in order to get mar- 
ried. ‘Two will certainly be married. ‘The aged Mountain 
Elf of Norway, who lives in the old Dovre-field, and possesses 
many craggy castles, and a gold-mine too, — which is a better 
thing than one imagines, ——is coming here with his two sons ; 
and they are to choose themselves wives. The hoary Elf is an 
honest old Norwegian, merry and straightforward. I have 
known him since many a long day, when we drank together 
to better acquaintance and good fellowship. He came here 
to fetch his wife, — she is dead now, — who was the daughter 
of the Rock-king. O, howI long to see the old northern Elf! 
His sons, people say, are coarse, blustering fellows ; but maybe 
one wrongs them, and when older, they will improve.” 


THE ELFIN MOUND. 269 


“ And when will they come?” asked his daughter. 

“ That depends on wind and weather,” said the Elfin King. 
“They travel economically ; they will come here by water. I 
wish they would go through Sweden ; but the old gentleman 
has no inclination that way. He does not keep pace with the 
time, and that I can’t bear.” 

At the same moment two Jacks-o’-the-lantern came hopping 
in, one faster than the other, and for that reason one was 
first. 

“They’re coming! they’re coming!” cried they. 

“Give me my crown ; and let me stand in the moonsnine,” 
said the Elfin King. 

The daughters held up their long shawls and bowed to the 
earth. 

There stood the hoary Mountain Elf, with a crown of hard- 
ened icicles and polished fir-cones on his head, and wrapped 
up in a mantle of fur and boots of the same. His sons, on 
the contrary, went with open throats, for they disdained the 
cold. 3 

“Is that a mound?” asked the lesser of the youths, point- 
ing to Elfin-home. ‘In Norway we call such a thing a hole.” 

“Boy,” said the father, “a mound rises upward, and a hole 
goes inward. Have you no eyes in your head?” 

Now they went in to the Elfin mound, where there was very 
choice company, certainly ; and had come together with such 
speed, one might have thought they had been borne thither on 
the breeze ; however, the arrangements for every one were 
neat and pretty. The sea-folk sat at table in large water- 
butts ; and they said they felt just as if they were at home. 
All observed good manners at the table, except the two little 
Norwegian Mountain Elves, who put their feet on the board, 
for they thought that all they did was becoming. 

“Take your feet away from the plates,” said the old EIf; 
and then they obeyed, although not immediately. They 
tickled the ladies next them with fir-cones ; then they pulled 
off their boots, to be more at their ease, and gave them to the 
Jadies to hold for them; but their father was very different. 
He told about the proud Norwegian rocks, and of the water- 
falls, which, covered with foam, dashed downwards, raging and 


270 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


roaring like thunder ; he told about the salmon, that leaps up 
against the falling waters, when. the Spirit of the flood plays 
on her golden harp. He related about the clear winter nights, 
when the bells on the sledges jingle, and the youths run with 
flaming torches over the smooth ice, which is so transparent 
that they could see how affrighted the fishes were beneath 
their feet. He, indeed, could recount so that one saw and 
heard the things he described ; when, huzza! all of a sudden, 
the old Elf gave one of the Elfin damsels a smacking kiss ; 
and yet they were not even distantly related. 

The Elfin maidens were now to dance, simple as well as 
stamping dances ; and then came the most difficult one of all, 
the so-called “ Dance out of the dance.” Confound it! their 
legs grew so long, one did not know which was the beginning 
nor which was the end: one could not distinguish legs from 
arms ; all was twirling about in the air like sawdust ; and they 
went whizzing round to such a degree that the Skeleton Horse 
grew quite sick, and was obliged to leave the table. 

“ Brrrrr!” said the gray-headed Elf ; “ that’s a regular High- 
land fling, as it’s called. But what can they do besides spin- 
ning about like a whirlwind?” 

“That you shall see,” said the King, calling the youngest 
of his daughters. She was as delicate and fair as moonlight, 
and was the daintiest of all the sisters. She put a white wand 
in her mouth, and vanished. ‘That was her art. 

But the old Mountain Elf said, “This was an art he should 
not at all like inhis wife, nor did he think his sons would 
either.” | 

The other could walk beside her own self, as though she 
had a shadow, which is a thing Elves never have. 

The third one’s talent was ofa very different kind ; she had 
learned in the brewery of the Witch of the Moor, and she 
knew how to lard alder-wood with glow-worms. 

‘She would make a good housewife,” said the Mountain 
Elf, blinking, for he did not at all like drinking so much. 

Then came the fourth Elfin maiden ; she had a large golden 
harp, and when she touched the first string, everybody lifted 
up the left foot, for the Elves are all left-sided ; and when she 
touched the next, everybody was forced to do whatever she 
pleased. 


LEE ELITN:« MOUND. 27! 


“That is a dangerous damsel,” said the Mountain Elf; but 
both his sons went out of the Elfin mound, for they were tired 
of it. 

“What can the next daughter do?” asked the old EIf. 

““T have learned to love the Norwegians,” said she ; and I 
will not marry unless I can go to Norway.” 

But the youngest of the sisters whispered into the old Elfs 
ear, “She only says that, because she has heard, in an old 
Norwegian rhyme, that when even the world is at an end, the 
rocks of Norway will stand firm; and that’s the reason she 
wants to go there, for she is greatly afraid of death.” 

“Ho, ho!” said the old Elf; “that’s the way the wind 
blows, is it? . But what can the seventh and last do? ” 

“The sixth comes before the seventh,” said the Elfin King, 
for he knew how to count ; but the sixth at first would not 
come forward. 

“T can do nothing except tell people the truth,” said she. 
“No one troubles about me, and I have enough to do to get 
my shroud ready.” 

Now came the seventh and last. And what could she do? 
She could tell as many fairy-tales as she chose. 

“Here are my five fingers,” said the old Mountain Elf. 
“For each one tell me a story.” 

And the Elfin maiden took hold of him by the wrist, and he 
laughed till he was almost choked ; and when she came to 
the finger that wore a golden ring, just as if it knew that mat- 
rimony was going on, the old Elf said, “ Hold fast what you 
have! ‘The hand is yours! JI will take you myself to wife!” 

And the Elfin maiden said that the fairy-tale to the ring- 
finger and to the little finger were wanting. 

““O, we'll hear them in winter,” said the old Elf; “and 
about the fir-tree too, and about the birch, and the gifts of the 
wood-nymphs, and about the crackling frost. You shall have 
opportunities enough of telling stories, for no one understands 
that yonder. And there we will sit in our rocky dwelling, 
where the pine-torch is burning, and where we drink mead out 
of the golden-horns of the old Norwegian kings ; I got some 
as a present from the Water-spirit. And when we are sitting 
so together, Garbo will come to pay us a visit, and he will sing 


ej2 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


to you all the songs of the mountain maidens. How merry 
we shall be! »The salmon will leap in the waterfall, and dash 
against the walls of rock ; but he will not be able to come in 
to us, after all! Yes, yes; one leads a happy, comfortable 
life in dear old Norway! But where are the boys?” 

Where were they? Why, they were running about the fields, 
blowing out the wills-o’-the-wisp that were coming quite orderly 
to have a procession with torches. 

“What's all this harum-scarum about?” said the old EIf. 
‘“‘T have taken a step-mother for you ; methinks now you may 
choose a wife too.” | 

But they said they liked speechifying and boon companion- 
ship better, and had no taste for matrimony ; and so they 
made speeches, tossed off their glasses, and turned them topsy- 
turvy, to show that they were quite empty. They then pulled 
off their coats, and lay down on the table to sleep. But the 
old Elf danced round the room with his young bride, and ex- 
changed boots with her ; for that is much more genteel than 
exchanging rings. 

“The cock is crowing!” said the elderly damsel who at- 
tended to the housekeeping. ‘ We must now bolt the shutters, 
lest the sun should spoil our complexions.” 

And then the mound closed. The Lizards ran about and 
up and down the cleft tree, and one said to the other, “ How 
much I like the old Mountain Elf!” 

“‘T like the merry boys better,” said the Earth-worm ; but 
then he could not see, poor wretch ! 


SOUP MADE OF A SAUSAGE-STICK. 273 


SOUP MADE OF A SAUSAGE-STICK. 
I. 


HAT was a splendid dinner yesterday,’ observed an 

old mouse of the female sex to another who had not 
been at the feast. “I sat number twenty-one from the old 
Mouse King, so that I was not badly placed. Should you 
like to hear the order of the banquet? ‘The courses were 
very. well arranged —mouldy bread, bacon rind, tallow can- 
dle, and sausage ; and then the same dishes over again from 
the beginning: it was just as good as having two banquets in 
succession. ‘There was as much jovialty and agreeable jest- 
ing as in the family circle. Nothing was left but the sausage- 
sticks. And the discourse turned upon these; and at last 
the expression, ‘Soup of a sausage-stick,’ was mentioned. 
Every one had heard the proverb, but no one had ever tasted 
the soup, much less prepared it. A capital toast was drunk 
to the inventor of the soup, and it was said he deserved to 
be a relieving officer. Was not that witty? And the old 
Mouse King stood. up, and promised that the young female 
mouse who could best prepare that soup should be his 
Queen ; a year and a day was allowed for the purpose.” 

“That was not at all bad,” said the other Mouse; “but 
how does one prepare this soup?” 

“Ah, how is it prepared? ‘That is just what all the young 
female mice, and the old ones too, are asking. They would 
all very much like to be Queen ; but they don’t want to take 
the trouble to go out into the world to learn how to prepare 
the soup, and that they would certainly have to do. But 
every one has not the gift of leaving the family circle and the 
_chimney corner. In foreign parts one can’t get cheese-rinds 
and bacon every day. No, one must bear hunger, and per- 
haps be eaten up alive by a cat.” 

Such were probably the considerations by which the major- 
ity were deterred from going out into the wide world and 
gaining information. Only four little Mice announced them- 


selves ready to depart. They were young and brisk, but 
18 


274. ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


poor. Each of them wished to proceed to one of the four 
quarters of the globe, and then it would become manifest 
which of them was favored by fortune. Each one took a sau- 
sage-stick, so as to keep in mind the object. of the journey. 
The stiff sausage-stick was to be to them as a pilgrim’s staff. 

It was at the beginning of May that they set out, and they 
did not return till the May of the following year ; and then 
only three of them appeared. The fourth did not report her- 
self, nor was there any intelligence of her, though the day of 
trial was close at hand. 

“Ves, there’s always some drawback in even the pleasant- 
est affair,” said the Mouse King. 

And then he gave orders that all mice within a circuit of 
many miles should be invited. ‘They were to assemble in 
the kitchen, where the three travelled Mice would stand up 
in a row, while a sausage-stick, shrouded in crape, was set up 
as a memento of the fourth, who was missing. No one was 
to proclaim his opinion till the Mouse King had settled what 
was to be said. Arid now let us hear. 


II. 
What the first little Mouse had seen and learned in her Travels. 


“When I went out into the wide world,” said the little 
Mouse, “I thought, as many think at my age, that I had al- 
ready learned everything ; but that was not the case. Years 
must pass before one gets so far. I went to sea at once. I 
went in a ship that steered towards the north. They had told 
me that the ship’s cook must know how to manage things at 
sea; but it is easy enough to manage things when one has 
plenty of sides of bacon, and whole tubs of salt pork and 
mouldy flour. One has delicate living on board ; but one does 
not learn to prepare soup of a sausage-stick. We sailed along 
for many days and nights; the ship rocked fearfully, and we 
did not get off without a wetting. When we at last reached 
the port to which we were bound, I left the ship ; and it was 
high up in the far north. 

“Jt is a wonderful thing, to go out of one’s own corner at 


SOUP MADE OF A SAUSAGE-STICK. mys 


home, and sail in a ship, where one has a sort of corner too, 
and then suddenly to find oneself hundreds of miles away in 
a strange land. I saw great pathless forests of pine and 
birch, which smelt so strong that I sneezed, and thought of 
sausage. ‘There were great lakes there too. When I came 
close to them the waters were quite clear, but from a distance 
they looked black as ink. Great swans floated upon them: 
I thought at first they were spots of foam, they lay so still ; 
but then I saw them walk and fly, and I recognized them. 
They belong to the goose family — one can see that by their 
walk ; for no oné can deny his parentage. I kept with my 
own kind. I associated with the forest and field mice, who, 
by the way, know very little, especially as regards cookery, 
though this was the very subject that had brought me abroad. 
The thought that soup might be boiled out of a sausage-stick 
was such a startling statement to them, that it flew at once 
from mouth to mouth through the whole forest. They de- 
clared the problem could never be solved; and little did I 
think that there, on the very first night, I should be initiated 
into the method of its preparation. It was in the height of 
summer, and that, the mice said, was the reason why the 
wood smeit so strongly, and why the herbs were so fragrant, 
and the lakes so transparent and yet so dark, with their white, 
swimming swans. 

“On the margin of the wood, among three or four houses, 
a pole as tall as the mainmast of a ship had been erected, 
and from its summit hung wreaths and fluttering ribbons: 
this was called a may-pole. Men and maids danced round 
the tree, and sang as loudly as they could to the violin of the 
fiddler. ‘There were merry doings at sundown and in the 
moonlight, but I took no part in them—what has a little 
mouse to do witha May dance? I sat in the soft moss and 
held my sausage-stick fast. The moon threw its beams espe- 
cially upon one spot, where a tree stood, covered with moss 
so exceedingly fine, I may almost venture to say it was as fine 
as the skin of the Mouse King; but it was of a green color, 
and that is a great relief to the eye. 

“All at once the most charming little people came march- 
ing forth. ‘They were only tall enough to reach to my knee. 


276 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


They looked like men, but were better proportioned: they 
called themselves elves, and had delicate clothes on, of flow- 
ers trimmed with the wings of flies and gnats, which had a 
very good appearance. Directly they appeared, they seemed 
to be seeking for something —I knew not what; but at last 
some of them came toward me, and the chief pointed to my 
sausage-stick, and said, ‘’That is just such a one as we want ; 
it is pointed ; it is capital!’ and the longer he looked at 
my staff the more delighted he became. 

«<¢T will lend it,’ I said, ‘but not to keep.’ 

“Not to keep!’ they all repeated; and they seized the 
sausage-stick, which I gave up to them, and danced away to 
the spot where the fine moss grew; and here they set up the 
stick in the midst of the green. They wanted to have a may- 
pole of their own, and the one they now had seemed cut out 
for them; and they decorated it so that it was beautiful to 
behold. 

“First, little spiders spun it round with gold thread, and 
hung it all over with fluttering veils and flags, so finely woven, 
bleached so snowy white in the moonshine, that they dazzled 
my eyes. They took colors from the butterfly’s wing, and 
strewed these over the white linen, and flowers and diamonds 
gleamed upon it, so that I did not know my sausage-stick 
again: there is not in all the world such a may-pole as they 
made of it. And now came the real great party of elves. 
They were quite without clothes, and looked as genteel as 
possible ; and they invited me to be present at the feast ; but 
I was to keep at a certain distance, for I was too large for 
them. 

“ And now began such music! It sounded like thousands 
of glass bells, so full, so rich, that I thought the swans were 
singing. I fancied also that I heard the voice of the cuckoo 
and the blackbird, and at last the whole forest seemed to join 
in. JI heard children’s voices, the sound of bells, and the 
song of birds—the most glorious melodies—and all came 
from the elves’ may-pole, namely, my sausage-stick. I should 
never have believed that so much could come out of it; but 
that depends very much upon the hands into which it falls. 
I was quite touched. I wept, as a little mouse may weep, 
with pure pleasure. 


SOUP MADE OF A SAUSAGE-STICK. 27 


“The night was far too short ; but it is not longer up yonder 
at that season. In the morning dawn the breeze began to 
blow, the mirror of the forest lake was covered with ripples, 
and all the delicate veils and flags fluttered in the air. The 
waving garlands of spider’s web, the hanging bridges and 
balustrades, and whatever else they are called, flew away as if 
they were nothing at all. Six elves brought me back my sau- 
sage-stick, and asked me at the same time if I had any wish 
that they could gratify ; so I asked them if they could tell me 
how soup was made of a sausage-stick. 

““¢ How we do it?’ asked the chief of the elves, with a smile. 
‘Why, you have just seen it. I fancy you hardly know your 
sausage-stick again.’ | 

“¢You only mean that as a joke,’ I replied. And then I 
told them in so many words why I had undertaken a journey, 
and what great hopes were founded on the operation at 
home. ‘What advantage,’ I asked, ‘can accrue to our Mouse 
King, and to our whole powerful state, from the fact of my 
having witnessed all this festivity? I cannot shake it out of 
the sausage-stick, and say, ‘Look, here is the stick, now 
the soup will come.” ‘That would be a dish that could only 
be put on the table when the guests had dined.’ 

“Then the Elf dipped his little finger into the cup of a blue 
violet, and said to me, — 

“¢See here! I will anoint your pilgrim’s staff; and when 
you go back to your country, and come to the castle of the 
Mouse King, you have but to touch him with the staff, and 
violets will spring forth and cover its whole surface, even in 
the coldest winter-time. And so I think I’ve given you some- 
thing to carry home, and a little more than something !’” 

But before the little Mouse said what this “something 
more” was, she stretched her staff out toward the King, and 
in very truth the most beautiful bunch of violets burst forth ; 
and the scent was so powerful that the Mouse King inconti- 
nently ordered the mice who stood nearest the chimney to 
thrust their tails into the fire and create a smell of burning, 
for the odor of the violets was not to be borne, and was not of 
the kind he liked. 

“ But what was the ‘something more’ of which you spoke? ” 
asked the Mouse King. 


2 78 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


“Why,” the little Mouse answered, “I think it is what they 
call effect!” And herewith she turned the staff round, and, 
lo! there was not a single flower to be seen upon it ; she only 
held the naked stick, and lifted this up, as a musical con- 
ductor lifts his bé/on. “*‘ Violets,’ the Elf said to me, are for 
sight, and smell, and touch. Therefore it yet remains to pro- 
vide for hearing and taste !’” 3 

And now the little Mouse began to beat time ; and music 
was heard, not such as sounded in the forest among the elves, 
but such as is heard in the kitchen. There was a bubbling 
sound of boiling and roasting ; and all at once it seemed as if 
the sound were rushing through every chimney, and pots or 
kettles were boiling over. The fire-shovel hammered upon 
the brass kettle, and then, on a sudden, all was quiet again. 
They heard the quiet, subdued song of the tea-kettle, and it 
was wonderful to hear —they could not quite tell if the kettle 
were beginning to sing or leaving off; and the little pot sim- 
mered, and the big pot simmered, and neither cared for the 
other : there seemed to be no reason at all in the pots. The 
little Mouse flourished her 4é¢on more and more wildly ; the 
pots foamed and threw up large bubbles, and boiled over, and 
the wind roared and whistled through the chimney. O! it 
became so terrible that the littlke Mouse lost her stick at 
last. 

“That was a heavy soup!” said the Mouse King. “Shall 
we not soon hear about the preparation? ” 

“That was all,” said the little Mouse, with a bow. 

“That all! Then we should be glad to hear what the next 
has to relate,” said the Mouse King. 


BALE. 
What the second little Mouse had to tell. 


“TI was born in the palace library,” said the second Mouse. 
“T and several members of our family never knew the happi- 
ness of getting into the dining-room, much less into the store- 
room ; on my journey, and here to-day, are the only times I 
have seen akitchen. We have indeed often been compelled to 


SOUP MADE OF (A SAUSAGE-STICK. 279 


suffer hunger in the library, but we get a good deal of knowl- 
edge. ‘The rumor penetrated even to us, of the royal prize 
offered to those who could cook soup out of a sausage-stick ; 
and it was my old grandmother who thereupon ferreted out a 
manuscript, which she certainly could not read, but which she 
had heard read out, and in which it was written: ‘ Those who 
are poets can boil soup out of a sausage-stick.’? She asked 
me if | were a poet. I felt quite innocent on the subject, and 
then she told me I must go out, and manage to become one. 
I again asked what was requisite in that particular, for it was 
as difficult for me to find that out as to prepare the soup; 
but grandmother had heard a good deal of reading, and she 
said that three things were especially necessary : ‘ Understand- 
ing, imagination, feeling —if you can manage to obtain these 
three, you are a poet, and the sausage-stick affair will be quite 
easy to you.’ 

“And I went forth, and marched towards the west, away 
into the wide world, to become a poet. 

_“ Understanding is the most important thing in every affair. 
I knew that, for the two other things are not held in half such 
respect, and consequently I went out first to seek Understand- 
ing. Yes, where does he dwell? ‘Go to the ant and be 
wise,’ said the great King of the Jews; I knew that from my 
library experience ; and I never stopped till I came to the first 
great ant-hill, and there I placed myself on the watch to be- 
come wise. 

“The ants are a respectable people. They are understand- 
ing itself. Everything with them is like a well worked sum, 
that comes right. To work and to lay eggs, they say, is to live 
while you live, and to provide for posterity ; and accordingly 
that is what they do They were divided into the clean and 
the dirty ants. The rank of each is indicated by a number, 
and the Ant Queen is number ONE; her view is the only 
correct one, she is the receptacle of all wisdom ; that was im- 
portant for me to know. She spoke so much, and it was all 
so clever, that it sounded to me like nonsense. She declared 
her ant-hill was the loftiest thing in the world ; though close 
by it grew a tree, which was certainly loftier, much loftier ; that 
could not be denied, and therefore it was never mentioned. 


280 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


One evening an ant had lost herself upon the tree ; she had 
crept up the stem — not up to the crown, but higher than any 
ant had climbed until then ; and when she turned, and came 
back home, she talked of something she had found in her trav- 
els far higher than the.ant-hill ; but the other ants considered 
that an insult to the whole community, and consequently she 
was condemned to wear a muzzle, and to continual ‘solitary 
confinement. Buta short time afterward another ant got on 
the tree, and made the same journey and the same discovery: 
and this one spoke with emphasis, and distinctly, as they said ; 
and as, moreover, she was one of the pure ants and very much 
respected, they believed her ; and when she died they erected 
an egg-shell as a memorial of her, for they had a great respect 
for the sciences. I saw,’ continued the little Mouse, “that 
the ants are always running to and fro with their eggs on their 
backs. One of them once dropped her egg; she exerted her- 
self greatly to pick it up again, but she could not succeed. 
Then two others came up, and helped her with all their might, 
insomuch that they nearly dropped their own eggs over it ; but 
then they certainly at once relaxed their exertions, for each 
should think of himself first —the Ant Queen had declared 
that by so doing they exhibited at once heart and understand- 
ing. 

«These two qualities,’ she said, ‘ place us ants on the high- 
est step among all reasoning beings. Understanding is seen 
among us all in predominant measure, and I have the greatest 
share of understanding.’ And so saying, she raised herself on 
her hind legs, so that she was easily to be recognized. I could 
not be mistaken, and I ate her up. We were to go to the ants 
to learn wisdom — and I had got the Queen!” 

“T now proceeded nearer to the before-mentioned lofty tree. 
It was an oak, and had a great trunk and a far-spreading top, 
and was very old. I knew that a living being dwelt there, a 
Dryad, as it is called, who is born with the tree and dies with 
it. JI had heard about this in the library ; and now! saw an 
oak-tree and an oak girl. She uttered a piercing cry when 
she saw me so near. Like all females, she was very much 
afraid of mice ; and she had more ground for fear than others, 
for I might have gnawed through the stem of the tree on which 


SOUP MADE OF A SAUSAGE-STICK. 281 


her life depended. I accosted the maiden in a friendly and 
honest way, and bade her take courage. And she took me 
up in her delicate hand ; and when I had told her my reason 
for coming out into the wide world, she promised me that per- 
haps on that very evening I should have one of the two treas- 
ures of which I was still in quest. She told me that Phantasus, 
the genius of imagination, was her very good friend, that he 
was beautiful as the God of Love, and that he rested many an 
hour under the leafy boughs of the tree, which then rustled 
more than ever over the pair of them. He called her his 
dryad, she said, and the tree his tree, for the grand gnarled 
oak was just to his taste, with its root burrowing so deep 
in the earth, and the stem and crown rising so high out in 
the fresh air, and knowing the beating snow, and the sharp 
wind, and the warm sunshine as they deserve to be known. 
“ Yes,’ the Dryad continued, ‘the birds sing aloft there in the 
branches, and tell each other of strange countries they have 
visited ; and on the only dead bough the stork has built a nest 
which is highly ornamental, and, moreover, one gets to hear 
something of the landof pyramids. All this is very pleasing 
to Phantasus ; but it is not enough for him: I myself must 
talk to him, and tell him of life in the woods, and must revert 
to my childhood, when I was little, and the tree such a deli- 
cate thing that a stinging-nettle overshadowed it — and I have 
to tell everything, till now that the tree is great and strong. 
Sit you down under the green thyme, and pay attention ; and 
when Phantasus comes, I shall find an opportunity to pinch 
his wings, and to pull outa little feather. Take the pen— 
no better is given to any poet—and it will be enough for 
you !” 

“And when Phantasus came the feather was plucked, and 
I seized it,” said the little Mouse. “I put it in water, and 
held it there till it grew soft. It was very hard to digest, but 
I nibbled it up at last. It is very easy to gnaw oneself into 
being a poet, though there are many things one must do. 
Now I had these two things, imagination and understanding, 
and through these I knew that the third was to be found in 
the library ; for a great man has said and written that there 
are romances whose sole and single use is that they relieve 


282 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


people of their superfluous tears, and that they are, in fact, a 
sort of sponges sucking up human emotion. J remembered a 
few of these old books, which had always looked especially 
palatable, and were much thumbed and very greasy, having 
evidently absorbed a great deal of feeling into themselves. 

“T betook myself back to the library, and, so to speak, de- 
voured a whole novel — that is, the essence of it, the interior 
part, for I left the crust, or binding. When I had digested 
this, and a second one in addition, I felt a: stirring within me, 
and I ate a bit of a third romance, and now I was a poet. I 
said so to myself, and.told the others also. I had headache, 
and chestache, and I can't tell what aches besides. I began 
thinking what kind of stories could be made to refer to a sau- 
sage-stick ; and many pegs, and sticks, and staves, and splin- 
ters came into my mind—the Ant Queen must have had a 
particularly fine understanding. I remembered the man who 
took a white stick in his mouth, by which means he could 
render himself and the stick invisible ; I thought of stick hob- 
by-horses, of ‘stock rhymes,’ of ‘breaking the staff’ over an 
offender, and goodness knows how many phrases more con- 
cerning sticks, stocks, staves, and pegs. All my thoughts ran 
upon sticks, staves, and pegs ; and when one is a poet (and I 
am a poet, for I have worked most terribly hard to become 
one) a person can make poetry on these subjects. I shall 
therefore be able to wait upon you every day with a poem or 
a history — andl that’s the soup I have to offer.” 

“Let us hear what the third has to say,’ was now the Mouse 
King’s command. 

“Piep! piep!” cried a small voice at the kitchen door, and 
a little Mouse —it was the fourth of the Mice who had con- 
tended for the prize, the one whom they looked upon as dead 
—shot in like an arrow. She toppled the sausage-stick with 
the crape covering over ina moment. She had been running 
day and night, and had travelled on the railway, in the freight 
train, having watched her opportunity, and yet she had almost 
come too late. She pressed forward, looking very much rum- 
pled, and she had lost her sausage-stick, but not her voice, for 
she at once took up the word, as if they had been waiting only 
for her, and wanted to hear none but her, and as if everything 


SOUP MADE OF A SAUSAGE-STICK. 283 


else in the world were of no consequence. She spoke at once, 
and spoke fully; she had appeared so suddenly that no one 
found time to object to her speech or to her, while she was 
speaking. And now let us hear what she said. 


IV. 


What the fourth Mouse, who spoke before the Third had spoken, 
had to tell. 


“J betook myself immediately to the largest town,” she 
said ; “the name has escaped me —I have a bad memory for 
names. From the railway I was carried, with some confiscated 
goods, to the council-house, and when I arrived there, I ran 
into the dwelling of the jailer. The jailer was talking of his 
prisoners, and especially of one, who had spoken unconsidered 
words. ‘These words had given rise to others, and these latter 
had been written down and recorded. 

““¢’'The whole thing is soup of a sausage-stick,’ said the Jailer ; 
‘but the soup may cost him his neck. 

‘Now, this gave me an interest in the prisoner,” continued 
the Mouse, “and I watched my opportunity and slipped into 
his prison — for there’s a mouse-hoie to be found behind every 
locked door. ‘The prisoner looked pale, and had a great beard 
and bright, sparkling eyes. The lamp flickered and smoked, 
but the walls were so accustomed to that, that they grew none 
the blacker for it. The prisoner scratched pictures and verses 
in white upon the black ground, but I did not read them. I 
think he found it tedious, and I was a welcome guest. He 
lured me with bread crumbs, with whistling, and with friendly 
words : he was glad to see me, and gradually I got to trust him, 
and we became good friends. He let me run upon his hand, 
his arm, and into his sleeve ; he let me creep about on his 
beard, and called me his little friend. I really got to love 
him, for these things are reciprocal. I forgot my mission in 
the wide world, forgot my sausage-stick: that I had placed in 
a crack in the floor—it’s lying there still. I wished to stay 
where I was, for if I went away the poor prisoner would have 
no one at all, and that’s having /vo little, in this world. I 
stayed, but Ze did not stay. He spoke to me very mournfully 


284 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORTJES. 


the last time, gave me twice as much bread and cheese as 
usual, and kissed his hand to me; then he went away, and 
never came back. I don’t know his history. 

“¢ Soup of a sausage-stick!’ said the Jailer, to whom I now 
went ; but I should not have trusted him. He took me in his 
hand, certainly, but he popped me into a cage, a treadmill. 
That’s a horrible engine, in which you go round and round 
without getting any farther ; and people laugh at you into the 
bargain. 

“The Jailer’s Granddaughter was a charming little thing, with 
a mass of curly hair that shone like gold, and such merry eyes, — 
and such a smiling mouth ! 

«Vou poor little mouse,’ she said, as she peeped into my 
ugly cage ; and she drew out the iron rod, and forth I jumped 
to the window board, and from thence to the roof spout. Free! 
free! I thought only of that, and not of the goal of my jour- 
ney. 

“Tt was dark, and night was coming on. I took up my 
quarters in an old tower, where dwelt a watchman and an owl. 
That is a creature like a cat, who has the great failing that she 
eats mice. But one may be mistaken, and so was I, for this 
was a very respectable, well-educated old owl ; she knew more 
than the watchman, and as much as I. The young owls are 
always making a racket ; but ‘Go and make soup of a sausage- 
stick,’ were the hardest words she could prevail on herself to 
utter, she was so fondly attached to-her family. Her conduct 
inspired me with so much confidence, that from the crack in 
which I was crouching, I called out ‘ piep!’ to her. This con- 
fidence of mine pleased her hugely, and she assured me I 
should be under her protection, and that no creature should be 
allowed to do me wrong ; she would reserve me for herself, for 
the winter, when there would be short commons. 

‘She was in every respect a very clever woman, and ex- 
plained to me how the watchman could only ‘ whoop’ with the 
horn that hung at his side, adding, ‘ He is terribly conceited 
about it, and imagines he’s an owl in the tower. Wants to do 
great things, but is very small — soup of a sausage-stick ! ’ 

“IT begged the Owl to give me the recipe for this soup, and 
then she explained the matter to me. 


SOU? MADE OF A SAUSAGE-STICK. 285 


“<«Soup of a sausage-stick,’ she said, ‘was only a human 
proverb, and was to be understood thus: Each thinks his own | 
way the best, but the whole signifies nothing.’ 

“Nothing !’ I exclaimed. I was quite struck. Truth is 
not always agreeable, but truth is above everything ; and 
that’s what the old Owl said I now thought about it, and 
readily perceived that if I brought what was above everything, 
I brought something far beyond soup of a sausage-stick. So I 
hastened away, that I might get home in time, and bring the 
highest and best, that is above everything — namely, ¢he truth. 
The mice are an enlightened people, and the King is above 
them all. He is capable of making me Queen, for the sake 
oft truth.” 

“ Your truth is a falsehood,” said the Mouse who had not 
yet spoken. ‘I can prepare the soup, and I mean to prepare 
its), 


V. 
flow it was prepared. 


“JT did not travel,” the third Mouse said. ‘I. remained in 
my country — that’s the right thing to do. There’s no neces- 
sity for travelling; one can get everything as good here. I 
stayed at home. I’ve not learned what I know from super- 
natural beings, or gobbled it up, or held converse with owls. 
I have what I know through my own reflections. Will you 
make haste and put that kettle upon the fire? So—now — 
water must be poured in— quite full, up to the brim! so, 
now more fuel — make up the fire, that the water may boil — 
it must boil over and over! So—TI now throw the peg in. 
Will the King now be pleased to dip his tail in the boiling 
water, and to stir it round with the said tail? The longer the 
King stirs it, the more powerful will the soup become. It 
costs nothing at all—no further materials are necessary, only 
stir it round!” 

“Cannot any one else do that?” asked the Mouse King. 

“No,” replied the Mouse. “The power is contained only 
in the tail of the Mouse King.” 

And the water boiled and bubbled, and the Mouse King 


286 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


stood close beside the kettle,— there was almost danger in it, 
—and he put forth his tail as the mice do in the dairy, when 
they skim the cream from a pan of milk, afterwards licking 
their creamy tails; but his tail only penetrated into the hot 
steam, and then he sprang hastily down from the hearth. 

“Of course —certainly you are my Queen,” he said. 
“Well adjourn the question of the soup till our golden 
wedding in fifty years’ time, so that the poor of my subjects, 
who will then be fed, may have something to which they can 
look forward with pleasure for a long time.” 

And soon the wedding was held. But many of the mice 
said, as they were returning home, that it could not be really 
called soup of a sausage-stick, but rather soup of a mouse’s 
tail. They said that some of the stories had been very 
cleverly told ; but the whole thing might have been different. 
“ 7 should have told it so— and so —and so!” 

Thus said the critics, who are always wise — after the fact. 

And this story went out into the wide world, everywhere ; 
and opinions varied concerning it, but the story remained as 
it was. And that’s the best in great things and in small, so 
also with regard to soup of a sausage-stick — not to expect 
any thanks for it. 


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THE WILD SWANS. 


AR away, where the swallows fly when our winter comes 

F on, lived a King who had eleven sons, and one daugh- 
ter named Eliza. The eleven brothers were Princes, and each 
went to school with a star on his breast and his sword by his 
side. They wrote with pencils of diamond upon slates of 
gold, and learned by heart just as well as they read ; one 
could see directly that they were Princes. Their sister Eliza 
sat upon a little stool of plate-glass, and had a picture-book 
which had been bought for the value of half a kingdom. 

O, the children were particularly well off; but it was not 
always to remain so. 

Their father, who was king of the whole country, married 
a bad Queen who did not love the poor children at all. On 
the very first day they could notice this. In the whole pal- 
ace there was great feasting, and the children were playing 
there. ‘Then guests came ; but instead of the children recelv- 
ing, as they had been accustomed to do, all the spare cake 
and all the roasted apples, they only had some sand given 
them in a tea-cup, and were told that they might make believe 
that was something good. _ 


288 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


The next week the Queen took the little sister Eliza into 
the country, to a peasant and his wife; and but a short time 
had elapsed before she told the King so many falsehoods 
about the poor Princes, that he did not trouble himself any 
more about them. | 

“Fly out into the world and get your own living,” said the 
wicked Queen. “Fly like great birds without a voice.” 

But she could not make it so bad for them as she had 
intended, for they became eleven magnificent wild swans. 
With a strange cry they flew out of the palace windows, far 
over the park and into the wood. | 

It was yet quite early morning when they came by the 
place where their sister Eliza lay asleep in the peasant’s 
room. Here they hovered over the roof, turned their long 
necks, and flapped their wings ; but no one heard or saw it. 
They were obliged to fly on, high up-toward the clouds, far 
away into the wide world ; there they flew into a great dark 
wood, which stretched away to the sea-shore. 

Poor little Eliza stood in the peasant’s room and played 
with a green leaf, for she had no other playthings. And she 
pricked a hole in the leaf, and looked through it up at the 
sun, and it seemed to her that she saw her brothers’ clear 
eyes ; each time the warm sun shone upon her cheeks she 
thought of all the kisses they had given her. 

Each day passed just like the rest. When the wind swept 
through the great rose-hedges outside the house, it seemed to 
whisper to them, “ What can be more beautiful than you?” 
But the roses shook their heads, and answered, “ Eliza!” 
And when the old woman sat in front of her door on Sunday 
and read in her hymn-book, the wind tyrned the leaves and 
said to the book, “Who can be more pious than you?” and 
the hymn-book said, “Eliza!” And what the rose-bushes 
and the hymn-book said was the simple truth. 

When she was fifteen years old she was to go home. And 
when the Queen saw how beautiful she was, she became spite- 
ful, and filled with hatred toward her. She would have been 
glad to change her into a wild swan, like her brothers, but 
she did not dare to do so at once, because the King wished 
to see his daughter. 


THE WILD SWANS. 289 


Early in the morning the Queen went into the bath, which 
was built of white marble, and decked with soft cushions and 
the most splendid tapestry ; and she took three toads and 
kissed them, and said to the first, — 

«Sit upon Eliza’s head when she comes into the bath, that 
she may become as stupid as you. Seat yourself upon her 
forehead,” she said to the second, “that she may become as 
ugly as you, and her father may not know her. Rest on her 
heart,” she whispered to the third, “that she may receive an 
evil mind and suffer pain from it.” 

Then she put the toads into the clear water, which at once 
assumed a green color; and calling Eliza, caused her to 
undress and step into the water. And while Eliza dived, one 
of the toads sat upon her hair, and the second on her fore- 
head, and the third on her heart ; but she did not seem to 
notice it; and as soon as she rose, three red poppies were 
floating on the water. If the creatures had not been pois- 
onous, and if the witch had not kissed them, they would have 
been changed into red roses. But at any rate they became 
flowers, because they had rested on the girl’s head, and fore- 
head, and heart. She was too good and innocent for sorcery 
to have power over her. 

When the wicked Queen saw that, she rubbed Eliza with 
walnut juice, so that the girl became dark brown, and smeared 
a hurtful ointment on her face, and let her beautiful hair hang 
in confusion. It was quite impossible to recognize the pretty 
Eliza. 

When her father saw her he was much shocked, and de- 
clared this was not his daughter. No one but the yard dog 
and the swallows would recognize her; but they were poor 
animals who had nothing to say in the matter. 

Then poor Eliza wept, and thought of her eleven brothers 
who were all away. Sorrowfully she crept out of the castle, 
and walked all day over field and moor till she came into 
the great wood. She did not know whither she wished to go, 
only she felt very downcast, and longed for her brothers: they 
had certainly been, like herself, thrust forth into the world, 
and she would seek for them and find them. 

She had been only a short time in the wood when the night 

19 


290 ANDERSEN'S WONDER STORIES. 


fell; she quite lost the path, therefore she lay down upon the 
soft moss, prayed her evening prayer, and leaned her head 
against the stump of a tree. Deep silence reigned around, 
the air was mild, and in the grass and in the moss gleamed 
like a green fire hundreds of glow-worms ; when she lightly 
touched one of the twigs with her hand, the shining insects 
fell down upon her like shooting stars. 

The whole night long she dreamed of her Grothens They 
were children again playing together, writing with their dia- 
mond pencils upon their golden slates, and looking at the 
beautiful picture-book which had cost half a kingdom. But 
on the slates they were not writing, as they had been accus- 
tomed to do, lines and letters, but the brave deeds they had 
done, and all they had seen and experienced ; and in the 
picture-book everything was alive —the birds sang, and the 
people went out of the book and spoke with Eliza and her 
brothers. But when the leaf was turned, they jumped back 
again directly, so that there should be no confusion. 

When she awoke the sun was already standing high. She 
could certainly not see it, for the lofty trees spread their 
branches far and wide above her. But the rays played there 
above like a gauzy veil, there was a fragrance from the fresh 
verdure, and the birds almost perched upon her shoulders. 
She heard the plashing of water; it was from a number of 
springs all flowing into a lake which had the most delightful 
sandy bottom. It was surrounded by thick growing bushes, 
but at one part the stags had made a large opening, and here 
Eliza went down to the water. ‘The lake was so clear, that 
if the wind had not stirred the branches and the bushes, so 
that they moved, one would have thought they were painted 
upon the depths of the lake, so clearly was every leaf mir- 
rored, whether the sun shone upon it or whether it lay in_ 
shadow. 

When Eliza saw her own face she was terrified — so brown 
and ugly was she; but when she wetted her little hand and 
rubbed her eyes and her forehead, the white skin gleamed 
forth again. Then she undressed and went down into the 
fresh water: a more beautiful king’s daughter than she was 
could not be found in the world. And when she had dressed 


THE WILD SWANS. 291 


herself again and plaited her long hair, she went to the bub- 
bling spring, drank out of the hollow of her hand, and then 
wandered into the wood, not knowing whither she went. She 
thought of her dear brothers, and knew that Heaven would 
certainly not forsake her. It is God who lets the wild apples 
grow, to satisfy the hungry. He showed her a wild apple- 
tree, with the boughs bending under the weight of the fruit. 
Here she took her midday meal, placing props under- the 
boughs, and then went into the darkest part of the forest, 
There it was so still that she could hear her own footsteps, 
as well as the rustling of every dry leaf which bent under her 
feet. Not one bird was to be seen, not one ray of sunlight 
could find its way through the great dark boughs of the trees ; 
the lofty trunks stood so close together that when she looked 
before her it appeared as though she were surrounded by sets 
of palings one behind the other. O, here was a solitude such 
as she had never before known ! 

The night came on quite dark. Not a single glow-worm 
now gleamed in the grass. Sorrowfully she lay down to sleep. 
Then it seemed to her as if the branches of the trees parted 
above her head, and mild eyes of angels looked down upon 
her from on high. 

When the morning came, she did not know if it had really 
been so or if she had dreamed it. 

She went a few steps forward, and then she met an old 
woman with berries in her basket, and the old woman gave 
her a few of them. Eliza asked the dame if she had not seen 
eleven Princes riding through the wood. 

“No,” replied the old woman, “but yesterday I saw eleven 
swans swimming in the river close by, with golden crowns on 
their heads.” 

And she led Eliza a short distance farther, to a declivity, 
and at the foot of the slope a little river wound its way. The 
trees on its margin stretched their long leafy branches across 
toward each other, and where their natural growth would not 
allow them to come together the roots had been torn out of 
the ground, and hung, intermingled with the branches, over 
the water. 

Eliza said farewell to the old woman, and went beside the 


292 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. - 


river to the place where the stream flowed out to the great 
Open ocean. | 

The whole glorious sea lay before the young girl’s eyes, but 
not one sail appeared upon its surface, and not a boat was to 
be seen. How was she to proceed? She looked at the innu- 
merable little pebbles on the shore ; the water had worn them 
all round. Glass, iron-stones, everything that was there, had 
received its shape from the water, which was much softer than 
even her delicate hand. 

“Tt rolls on unweariedly, and thus what is hard becomes 
smooth. I will be just as unwearied. ‘Thanks for your les- 
son, you clear rolling waves; my heart tells me that one day 
you will lead me to my dear brothers.” 

On the foam-covered sea-grass lay eleven white swan feath- 
ers, which she collected into a bunch. Drops of water were 
upon them —whether they were dew-drops or tears nobody 
could tell. Solitary it was there on the strand, but she did 
not feel it, for the sea showed continual changes —more ina 
few hours than the lovely lakes can produce in a whole year. 
Then a great black cloud came. It seemed asif the sea 
would say, “I can look angry too ;” and then the wind blew, 
and the waves turned their white side outward. But when the 
clouds gleamed red and the winds slept, the sea looked like a 
rose leaf; sometimes it became green, sometimes white. But 
however quietly it might rest, there was still a slight motion 
on the shore ; the water rose gently like the breast of a sleep- 
ing child. 

When the sun was just about to set, Eliza saw eleven wild 
swans, with crowns on their heads, flying toward the land: 
they swept along one after the other, so that they looked like 
a long white band. Then Eliza descended the slope and hid 
herself behind a bush. ‘The swans alighted near her and 
flapped their great white wings. 

As soon as the sun had disappeared beneath the water, the 
swans’ feathers fell off, and eleven handsome Princes, Eliza’s 
brothers, stood there. She uttered a loud cry, for although 
they were greatly altered, she knew and felt that it must be 
they. And she sprang into their arms and called them by 
their names ; and the Princes felt supremely happy when they 


THE WILD SWANS. 293 


saw their little sister again ; and they knew her, though she 
was now tall and beautiful. ‘They smiled and wept ; and soon 
they understood how cruel their step-mother had been to them 
all. | | 

“We brothers,” said the eldest, “ fly about as wild swans as 
long as the sun is in the sky, but directly it sinks down we 
receive our human form again. Therefore we must always 
take care that we have a resting-place for our feet when the 
sun sets, for if at that moment we were flying up toward the 
clouds, we should sink down into the deep as men. We do 
not dwell here ; there lies a land just as fair as this beyond 
the sea. But the way thither is long ; we must cross the great 
sea, and on our path there is no island where we could pass 
the night, only a little rock stands forth in the midst of the 
waves ; it is but just large enough for us to rest upon it 
close to each other. If the sea is rough, the foam spurts far 
over us, but we thank God for the rock. There we pass the 
night in our human form; but for this rock we could never 
visit our beloved native land, for we require two of the longest 
days in the year for our journey. Only once’in each year is 
it granted to us to visit our home. For eleven days we may 
stay here and fly over the great wood, from whence we can 
see the palace in which we were born, and in which our father 
lives, and the high church tower, beneath whose shade our 
mother lies buried. Here it seems to us as though the 
bushes and trees were our relatives; here the wild horses 
career across the steppe, as we have seen them do in our 
childhood ; here the charcoal-burner sings the old songs to 
which we danced as children ; here is our father-land ; hither 
we feel ourselves drawn, and here we have found you, our 
dear little sister. “Two days more we may stay here ; then we 
must away across the sea to a glorious land, but which is not 
our native land. How can we bear you away? for we have 
neither ship nor boat.” 

“Tn what way can I release you?” asked the sister ; and 
they conversed nearly the whole night, only slumbering for a 
few hours. 

She was awakened by the rustling of the swans’ wings 
above her head. Her brothers were again enchanted, and 


294 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


they flew in wide circles and at last far away; but one of 
them, the youngest, remained behind, and the swan laid his 
head in her lap, and she stroked his wings ; and the whole 
day they remained together. Towards evening the others 
came back and when the sun had gone down they stood there 
in their own shapes. | 

“To-morrow we fly far away from here, and cannot come 
back until a whole year has gone by. But we cannot leave 
you thus! Have you courage to come with us? My arm is 
strong enough to carry you in the wood ; and should not all 
our wings be strong enough to fly with you over the sea?” 

“Yes, take me with you,” 'said Eliza. 

The whole night they were occupied in weaving a net of the 
pliable willow bark and tough reeds ; and it was great and 
strong. On this net Eliza lay down ; and when the sun rose, 


and her brothers were changed into wild swans, they seized 


the net with their beaks, and flew with their beloved sister, 
who was still asleep, high up toward the clouds. The sun- 
beams fell exactly upon her face, so one of the swans flew 
over her head, that his broad wings might overshadow her. 

They were far away from the shore when Elza awoke: she 
was still dreaming, so strange did it appear to her to be car- 
ried high through the air and over the sea. By her side lay a 
branch with beautiful ripe berries, and a bundle of sweet-tast- 
ing roots. The youngest of the brothers had collected them 
and placed them there for her. She smiled at him thankfully, 
for she recognized him; he it was who flew over her and 
shaded her with his wings. 

They-were so high that the greatest ship they descried_ be- 
neath them seemed like a white sea-gull lying upon the waters. 
A great cloud stood behind them —it was a perfect mountain ; 
and upon it Eliza saw her own shadow and those of the 
eleven swans ; there they flew on, gigantic in size. Here was 
a picture, a more splendid one than she had ever yet seen. 
But as the sun rose higher and the cloud was. left farther be- 
hind them, the floating, shadowy images vanished away. 

The whole day they flew onward through the air, like a 
whirring arrow, but their flight was slower than it was wont to 


be, for they had their sister to carry. Bad weather came on ; 


\ 
AN) 
A 
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V 


THE WILD SWANS. pats: 


the evening drew near ; Eliza looked anxiously at the setting 
sun, for the lonely rock in the ocean could not be seen. It 
seemed to her as if the swans beat the air more strongly with 
their wings. Alas! she was the cause that they did not ad- 
vance fast enough. When the sun went down, they must be- 
come men and fall into the sea and drown. ‘Then she prayed 
a prayer from the depths of her heart ; but still she could de- 
scry no rock. ‘The dark clouds came nearer in a great, black, 
threatening body, rolling forward like a mass of lead, and the 
lightning burst forth, flash upon flash. 

Now the sun just touched the margin of the sea. Eliza’s 
heart trembled. ‘Then the swans darted downward, so swiftly 
that she thought they were failing, but they paused again. 
The sun was half hidden below the water. And now for the 
first time she saw the little rock beneath her, and it looked no 
larger than a seal might look, thrusting his head forth from 
the water. The sun sank very fast; at last it appeared only 
like a star; and then her foot touched the firm land. The 
sun was extinguished like the last spark in a piece of burned 
paper ; her brothers were standing around her, arm in arm, 
but there was not more than just enough room for her and 
for them. ‘The sea beat against the rock and went over her 
like small rain ; the sky glowed in continual fire, and peal on 
peal the thunder rolled ; but sister and brothers held each 
other by the hand and sang psalms, from which they gained 
comfort and courage. 

In the morning twilight the air was pure and calm. As 
soon as the sun rose the swans flew away with Eliza from the 
island. ‘The sea still ran high, and when they soared up aloft 
the white foam looked like millions of white swans swimming 
upon the water. 

_ When the sun mounted higher, Eliza saw before her, half 
floating in the air, a mountainous country with shining masses 
of ice on its water, and in the midst of it rose a castle, appa- 
rently a mile long, with row above row of elegant columns, 
while beneath waved the palm woods and bright flowers as 
large as mill-wheels. She asked if this was the country to 
which they were bound, but the swans shook their heads, for 
what she beheld was the gorgeous, ever-changing palace of 


2 98 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


Fata Morgana, and into this they might bring no human 
being. As Eliza gazed at it, mountains, woods, and castle 
fell down, and twenty proud churches, all nearly alike, with 
high towers and pointed windows, stood before them. She 
fancied she heard the organs sounding, but it was the sea she 
heard. When she was quite near the churches they changed 
to a fleet sailing beneath her, but when she looked down it 
was only a sea-mist gliding over the ocean. Thus she hada 
continual change before her eyes, till at last she saw the real 
land to which they were bound. ‘There arose the most glori- 
ous blue mountains, with cedar forests, cities, and palaces. 
Long before the sun went down she sat on the rock, in front 
of a great cave overgrown with delicate green trailing plants 
looking like embroidered carpets. | 

““Now we shall see what you will dream of here to-night,” 
said the youngest brother; and he showed her to her bed- 
chamber. ) 

“ Heaven grant that I may dream of a way to release you,” 
she replied. 

And this thought possessed her mightily, and she prayed 
ardently for help; yes, even in her sleep she continued to 
pray. Then it seemed to her as if she were flying high in the 
air to the cloudy palace of Fata Morgana; and the fairy came 
out to meet her, beautiful and radiant ; and yet the fairy was 
quite like the old woman who had given her the berries in the 
wood, and had told her of the swans with golden crowns on 
their heads. 

“Your brothers can be released,” said she. ‘ But have 
you courage and perseverance? Certainly, water is softer 
than your delicate hands, and yet it changes the shape of 
stones ; but it feels not the pain that your fingers will feel ; it 
has no heart, and cannot suffer the agony and torment you 
will have to endure. Do you see the stinging-nettle which I 
hold in my hand? Many of the same kind grow around the 
cave in which you sleep: those only, and those that grow 
upon church-yard graves, are serviceable, — remember that. 
Those you must pluck, though they will burn your hands into 
blisters. Break these nettles to pieces with your feet, and 
you will have flax; of this you must plait and weave eleven 


i 


THE WILD SWANS. 299 


shirts of mail with long sleeves: throw these over the eleven 
swans, and the charm will be broken. But recollect well, 
from the moment you begin this work until it is finished, even 
though it should take years to accomplish, you must not speak. 
The first word you utter will pierce your brothers’ hearts like 
a deadly dagger. ‘Their lives hang on your tongue. Remem- 
ber all this!” 

And she touched her hand with the nettle; it was like a 
burning fire, and Eliza woke with the smart. It was broad 
daylight ; and close by the spot where she had slept lay a 
nettle like the one she had seen in her dream. She fell upon 
her knees and prayed gratefully, and went forth from the cave 
to begin her work. 

With her delicate hands she groped among the ugly nettles. 
These stung like fire, burning great blisters on her arms and 
hands ; but she thought she would bear it gladly if she could 
only release her dear brothers. Then she bruised every nettle 
with her bare feet and plaited the green flax. 

When the sun had set her brothers came, and they were 
frightened when they found her dumb. They thought it was 
some new sorcery of their wicked stepmother’s ; but when 
they saw her hands, they understood what she was doing for 
their sake, and the youngest brother wept. And where his 
tears dropped she felt no more pain, and the burning blisters 
vanished. 

She passed the night at her work, for she could not sleep 
till she had delivered her dear brothers. The whole of the 
following day, while the swans were away, she sat in solitude, 
but never had time flown so quickly with her as now. One 
shirt of mail was already finished, and now she began the 
second. 

Then a hunting-horn sounded among the hills, and she was 
struck with fear. The noise came nearer and nearer; she 
heard ihe barking dogs, and timidly she fled into the cave, 
bound into a bundle the nettles she had collected and pre- 
pared, and sat upon the bundle. 

Immediately a great dog came bounding out of the ravine, 
and then another, and another ; they barked loudly, ran back, 
and then came again. Only a few minutes had passed before 


300 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


all the huntsmen stood before the cave, and the handsomest 
of them was the King of the country. He came forward to 
Eliza, for he had never seen a more beautiful maiden. 

“How did you come hither, you delightful child?” he 
asked. 

Eliza shook her head, for she might not speak — it would 
cost her brothers their deliverance and their lives. And she 
hid her hands under her apron, so that the King might not see 
what she was suffering. 

“Come with me,” said he. ‘You cannot stop here. If 


you are as good as you are beautiful, J will dress you in velvet - 


and silk, and place the golden crown on your head, and you 
shall dwell in my richest castle, and rule.” 

And then he lifted her on his horse. She wept and wrung 
her hands ; but the King said : — 

“TI only wish for your happiness ; one day you will thank 
me for this.” 

And then he galloped away among the mountains with her 
on his horse, and the hunters galloped at their heels. 

When the sun went down, the fair, regal city lay before 


them, with its churches and cupolas; and the King led her » 
into the castle, where great fountains plashed in the lofty 


marble halls, and where walls and ceilings were covered with 
glorious pictures. But she had no eyes for all this — she only 
wept and mourned. Passively she let the women put royal 
robes upon her, and weave pearls in her hair, and draw 
dainty gloves over her blistered fingers. 

When she stood there in full array, she was dazzlingly beau- 
tiful, so that the court bowed deeper than ever. And _ the 
King: chose her for his bride, although the Archbishop shook 
his head and whispered that the beauteous, fresh maid was 
certainly a witch, who blinded the eyes and led astray the 
heart of the King. 

But the King gave no ear to this, but ordered that the 
music should sound, and the costliest dishes should be served; 
and the most beautiful maidens should dance before them. 
And she was led through fragrant gardens into gorgeous 
halls ; but never a smile came upon her lips or shone in her 
eyes: there she stood, a picture of grief. Then the King 


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THE WILD SWANS. 303 


opened a little chamber close by, where she was to sleep. 
This chamber was decked with splendid green tapestry, and 
completely resembled the cave in which she had been. On 
the floor lay the bundle of flax which she had prepared from 
the nettles, and under the ceiling hung the shirt of mail she 
had completed. All these things one of the huntsmen had 
brought with him as curiosities. 

“ Here you may dream yourself back in your former home,” 
said the King. “Here is the work which occupied you there, 
and now, in the midst of all your splendor, it will amuse you 
to think of that time.” 

When Eliza saw this that lay so near her heart, a smile 
played round her mouth and the crimson blood came back 
into her cheeks. She thought of her brothers’ deliverance, 
and kissed the King’s hand ; and he pressed her to his heart, 
and caused the marriage feast to be announced by all the 
church bells. The beautiful dumb girl out of the wood was 
to become the Queen of the country. 

Then the Archbishop whispered evil words into the King’s 
ear, but they did not sink into the King’s heart. The mar- 
riage would take place ; the Archbishop himself was obliged 
to place the crown on her head, and with wicked spite he 
pressed the narrow circlet so tightly upon her brow that it 
pained her. But a heavier ring lay close around her heart — 
sorrow for her brothers ; she did not feel the bodily pain. 
Her mouth was dumb, for a single word would cost her broth- 
ers their lives, but her eyes glowed with love for the kind, 
handsome King, who did everything to rejoice her. She 
loved him with her whole heart, more and more every day. 
O that she had been able to confide in him and to tell him of 
her grief! But she was compelled to be dumb, and to finish 
her work in silence. Therefore at night she crept away from 
his side, and went quietly into the little chamber which was 
decorated like the cave, and wove one shirt of mail after 
another. But when she began the seventh she had no flax 
eit 

She knew that in the church-yard nettles were growing that 
she could use; but she must pluck them herself, and how 
was she to go out there? 


304 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


“QO, what is the pain in my fingers to the torment my heart 
endures?” thought she. ‘I must venture it, and help will 
not be denied me! ” 

With a trembling heart, as though the deed she purposed 
doing had been evil, she crept into the garden in the moon- 
light night, and went through the lanes and through the de- 
serted streets to the church-yard. There, on one of the broad- 
est tombstones, she saw sitting a circle of lamias. These hid- 
eous wretches took off their ragged garments, as if they were 
going to bathe; then with their skinny fingers they clawed 


open the fresh graves, and with fiendish greed they snatched — 


up the corpses and ate the flesh. Eliza was obliged to pass 
close by them, and they fastened their evil glances upon her ; 
but she prayed silently, and collected the burning nettles, and 
carried them into the castle. 

Only one person had seen her, and that was the Arch- 
bishop. He was awake while others slept. Now he felt 
sure his opinion was correct, that all was not as it should be 
with the Queen ; she was a witch, and thus she had bewitched 
the King and the whole people. 

In secret he told the King what he had seen and what he 

_feared ; and when the hard words came from his tongue, the 
pictures of saints in the cathedral shook their heads, as 
though they could have said, “It is not so! Eliza is inno- 
cent!” But the Archbishop interpreted this differently — he 
thought they were bearing witness against her, and shaking 
their heads at her sinfulness. Then two heavy tears rolled 


down the King’s cheeks ; he went home with doubt in his 


heart, and at night pretended to be asleep ; but no quiet sleep 
came upon his eyes, for he noticed that Eliza got up. Every 
night she did this, and each time he followed her silently, 
and saw how she disappeared from her chamber. 

From day to day his face became darker. Eliza saw it, 
but did not understand the reason; but it frightened her — 
and what did she not suffer in her heart for her brothers? 
Her hot tears flowed upon the royal velvet and purple ; they 
lay there like sparkling diamonds, and all who saw the splen- 
dor wished they were queens. In the mean time she had 
almost finished her work. Only one shirt of mail was still 


| 
. 
; 


THE WILD SWANS. 305 


to be completed, but she had no flax left, and not a single 
nettle. Once more, for the last time, therefore, she must go 
to the church-yard, only to pluck a few handfuls. She 
thought with terror of this solitary wandering and of the hor- 
rible lamias, but her will was firm as her trust in Providence. 

Eliza went on, but the King and the Archbishop followed 
her. They saw her vanish into the church-yard through the 
wicket-gate ; and when they drew near, the lamias were sit- 
ting upon the tomb-stone as Eliza had seen them; and the 
King turned aside, for he fancied her among them, whose 
head had rested against his breast that very evening. 

“The people must condemn her,” said he. 

And the people condemned her to suffer death by fire. 

Out of the gorgeous regal halls she was led into a dark, 
damp cell, where the wind whistled through the grated win- 
dow ; instead of velvet and silk they gave her the bundle of 
nettles which she had collected ; on this she could lay her 
head ; and the hard, burning coats of mail which she had 
woven were to be her coverlet. But nothing could have been 
given her that she liked better. She resumed her work and 
prayed. Without, the street boys were singing jeering songs 
about her, and not a soul comforted her with a kind word. 

But toward evening there came the whirring of a swan’s 
wings close by the grating —it was the youngest of her 
brothers. He had found his sister, and she sobbed aloud 
with joy, though she knew that the approaching night would 
probably be the last she had to live. But now the work was 
almost finished, and her brothers were here. 

Now came the Archbishop, to stay with her in her last 
hour, for he had promised the King to doso. And she shook 
her head, and with looks and gestures she begged him to 
depart, for in this night she must finish her work, or else all 
would be in vain, all her tears, her pain, and her sleepless 
nights. The Archbishop withdrew, uttering evil words against 
her; but poor Eliza knew she was innocent, and continued 
her work. 

It was still twilight ; not till an hour afterward would the 
sun rise. And the eleven brothers stood at the castle gate, 
and demanded to be brought before the King. That could 


300 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


not be, they were told, for it was still almost night ; the King 
was asleep, and might not be disturbed. They begged, they 
threatened, and the sentries came, yes, even the King himself 
came out, and asked what was the meaning of this. At that 
moment the sun rose, and no more were the brothers to be 
seen, but eleven wild swans flew away over the castle. 

All the people came flocking out at the town gate, for they 
wanted to see the witch burned. An old horse drew the cart 
on which she sat. They had put upon her a garment of 
coarse sackcloth. Her lovely hair hung loose about her 
beautiful head ; her cheeks were as pale as death ; and her 
lips moved silently, while her fingers were engaged with the 
green flax. Even on the way to death she did not interrupt 
the work she had begun ; the ten shirts of mail lay at her 
feet, and she wrought at the eleventh. The mob derided her. 

“Look at the red witch, how she mutters! She has no 
hymn-book in her hand ; no, there she sits with her ugly sor- 
cery — tear it in a thousand pieces!” 

And they all pressed upon her, and wanted to tear up the 
shirts of mail. Then eleven wild swans came flying up, and 
sat round about her on the cart, and beat with their we 
and the mob gave way before them, terrified. 

“That is a sign from Heaven! She is certainly innocent ! ” 
whispered many. But they did not dare to say it aloud. 

Now the executioner seized her by the hand; then she 
hastily threw the eleven shirts over the swans, and immediately 
eleven handsome Princes stood there. But the youngest had 
a swan’s wing instead of an arm, for a sleeve was wanting to 
his shirt —— she had not quite finished it. 

“Now I may speak!” she said. “I am innocent!” 

And the people who saw what happened bowed before tee 
as before a saint ; but she sank lifeless into her brothers’ arms, 
such an effect eel suspense, anguish, and pain had upon her. 

“Yes, she is innocent,” said the eldest brother. 


And now he told everything that had taken place; and : 


while he spoke a fragrance arose as of millions of roses, for 
every piece of fagot in the pile had taken root and was send- 
ing forth shoots; and a fragrant hedge stood there, tall and 
great, covered with red roses, and at the top a flower, white 


THE WILD. SWANS. 307 


and shining, gleaming like a star. This flower the King 
plucked and placed in Eliza’s bosom; and she arose with 
peace and happiness in her heart. 

And all the church bells rang of themselves, and the birds 
came in great flocks. And back to the castle went such a 
marriage-procession as no King had ever seen. 


call 
a a 
Zl 


Woe 


308 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


THE BEETLE. 


HE Emperor’s favorite horse was shod with gold ite 
had a golden shoe on each of its feet. 

And why was this? 

He was a beautiful creature, with delicate legs, bright in- 
telligent eyes, and a mane that hung down his neck like a 
veil. He had carried his master through the fire and smoke 
of battle, and heard the bullets whistling around him; had 
kicked, bitten, and taken part in the fight when the enemy ad- 
vanced ; and had sprung, with his master on his back, over the 
fallen foe, and had saved the crown of red gold, and the life 
of the Emperor, which was more valuable than the red gold ; 
and that is why the Emperor’s horse had golden shoes. 

And the Beetle came creeping forth. 

“ First the great ones,” said he, “and then the little ones ; 
but greatness is not the only thing that does it.” And so 
saying, he stretched out his thin legs. 

“ And pray what do you want?” asked the Smith. 

“Golden shoes,” replied the Beetle. 

“Why, you must be out of your senses,” cried the Smith. 
“ Do you want to have golden shoes, too?” 

“Golden shoes,” replied the Beetle. “Am I not just as 
good as that big creature yonder, that is waited on, and 
brushed, and has meat and drink put before him? Don’t I 
belong to the imperial stable ? ” 

“ But wy is the horse to have golden shoes? Don’t you 
understand that?” asked the Smith. 

“Understand? J understand that it is a personal slight 
offered to myself,” cried the Beetle. “It is done to annoy 
me, and therefore I am going into the world to seek my 
fortune.” | 

“Go along!” said the Smith. 

* You're a rude fellow!” cried: the Beetle: and then-he 
went out of the stable, flew a little way, and soon afterward 
found himself in a beautiful flower-garden, all fragrant with 
roses and lavender. 


LLLP IES Lod LoL, 309 


“Ts it not beautiful here?” asked one of the little Lady-birds 
that flew about, with their delicate wings and their red and 
black shields on their backs. “ How sweet it is here — how 
beautiful it is !” . 

“I’m accustomed to better things,” said the Beetle. ‘ Do 
you call ¢#zs beautiful? Why, there is not so much as a dung- 
heap.” 

Then he went on, under the shadow of a great stack, and 
found a caterpillar crawling along. 

“ How beautiful. the world is!” said the CORES othe 
sun is so warm, and everything so enjoyable! And when I go 
to sleep, and die, as they call it, I shall wake up as a butter- 
fly, with beautiful wings to fly with.” 

“iteweconceited you are!” exclaimed the Beetle. “ You 
fly about as a butterfly, indeed! I’ve come out of the stable of 
the Emperor, and no one there, not even the Emperor’s favor- 
ite horse —that by the way wears my cast-off golden shoes — 
has any such idea. To have wings to fly! why we can fly 
now ;” and he spread his wings and flew away. “I don’t 
want to be annoyed, and yet I am annoyed,” he said, as he 
flew off. 

Soon afterward he fell down upon a great lawn. For a 
while he lay there and Feud slumber ; at last he fell asleep 
in earnest. 

Suddenly a shower of rain came pattering from the clouds. 
The Beetle woke up at the noise, and wanted to escape into 
the earth, but could not. He was tumbled over and over: 
sometimes he was swimming on his stomach, sometimes on 
his back, and as for flying, that was out of the question ; he 
doubted whether he should escape from the place with his 
life. He therefore remained lying where he was. 

When the weather had moderated a little, and the Beetle 
had rubbed the water out of his eyes, he saw something gleam- 
ing. It was linen that had been placed there to bleach. He 
managed to make his way up to it, and crept into a fold of the 
damp linen. Certainly the place was not so comfortable to lie 
in as the warm stable ; but there was no better to be had, and 
therefore he remained lying there for a whole day and a whole 
night, and the rain kept on during all the time. Toward 


Oe ee 
2. 


310 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


morning he crept forth: he was very much out of temper about 
the climate. 

On the linen two frogs were sitting. ‘Their bright eyes 
absolutely gleamed with pleasure. 

‘Wonderful weather this!” one of them cried. ‘ How re- 
freshing! And the linen keeps the water together so beauti- 
fully. My hind legs seem to quiver as if I were going to 
swim.” 

“T should like to know,” said the second, “if the swallow, 
who flies so far round in her many journeys in foreign lands, 
ever meets with a better climate than this. What delicious 
dampness! It is really as if one were lying in a wet ditch. 
Whoever does not rejoice in this, certainly does not love his 
father-land.” 

“Have you been in the Emperor’s stable?” asked the Bee- 
tle. ‘There the dampness is warm and refreshing. That’s 
the climate for me ; but I cannot take it with me on my jour- 
ney. Is there never a muck-heap here in the garden, where 
a person of rank, like myself, can feel himself at home, and 
take up his quarters?” 

But the Frogs either did not or would not understand him. 

“T never ask a question twice!” said the Beetle, after he 
had already asked this one three times without receiving any 
answer. 

Then he went a little further, and stumbled against a frag- 
ment of pottery, that certainly ought not to have been lying 
there ; but as it was once there, it gave a good shelter against 
wind and weather. Here dwelt several families of earwigs ; 
and these did not require much, only sociality, The female 
members of the community were full of the purest maternal 
affection, and accordingly each one considered her own child 
the most beautiful and clever of all. 

“Qur son has engaged himself,” said one mother. ‘“ Dear, 
innocent boy! His greatest hope is that he may creep one 
day into a clergyman’s ear. It’s very artless and lovable, 
that ; and being engaged will keep him steady. What joy for 
a mother!” 

“Our son,” said another mother, “had scarcely crept out of 
the egg, when he was already off on his travels. He’s all life 


LHL IDLE LLL. Bist 


and spirits; he’ll run his horns off! What joy that is for a 
_ mother! Is it not so, Mr. Beetle?” for she knew the stranger 
by his horny coat. 

“You are both quite right,” said he ; so they begged him 
to walk in, —that is to say, to come as far as he could under 
the bit of pottery. 

“Now, you also see my little earwig,” observed a third 
mother and a fourth ; “they are lovely little things, and highly 
amusing. ‘They are never ill-behaved, except when they are 
uncomfortable in their inside ; but, unfortunately, one is very 
subject to that at their age.” 

Thus each mother spoke of her baby; and the babies 
talked among themselves, and made use of the little nippers 
they have in their tails to nip the beard of the Beetle. 

“Yes, they are always busy about something, the little 
rogues!” said the mothers ; and they quite beamed with ma- 
ternal pride ; but the Beetle felt bored by it, and therefore he 
inquired how far it was to the nearest muck-heap. 

“That is quite out in the big world, on the other side of 
the ditch,” answered an Earwig. “I hope none of my chil- : 
dren will go so far, for it would be the death of me.” 

“But /shall try to get so far,” said the Beetle ; and he 
went off wi-nout taking formal leave ; for that is considered 
the polite thing to do. And by the ditch he met several 
friends, — beetles, all of them. 

“Here we live,” they said. ‘We are very comfortable here. 
Might we ask you to step down into this rich mud? You 
must be fatigued after your journey.” | 

“Certainly,” replied the Beetle. “I have been exposed to 
the rain, and have had to lie upon linen, and cleanliness is a 
thing that greatly exhausts me. I have also pains in one of 
my wings, from sitting in a draught under a fragment of pot- 
tery. It is really quite refreshing to be among one’s compan- 
ions once more.” 

“Perhaps you come from a muck-heap?” observed the 
oldest of them. 

“Indeed, I come from a much higher place,” replied the 
Beetle. “I came from the Emperor’s stable, where I was 
born with golden shoes on my feet. I am travelling on a se- 


312 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


cret embassy. You must not ask me any questions, for I can’t 
betray my secret.” | 

With this the Beetle stepped down into the rich mud. There 
sat three young maiden Beetles ; and they tittered, because 
they did not know what to say. 

“Not one of them is engaged yet,” said their mother; and 
the Beetle maidens tittered again, this time from embar- 
rassment. 

“T have never seen greater beauties in the royal stables,” 
exclaimed the Beetle, who was now resting himself. 

“Don’t spoil my girls,” said the mother ; “and don’t talk 
to them, please, unless you have serious intentions. But of 
course your intentions are serious, and therefore I give you 
my blessing.” 

“ Hurrah!” cried all the other Beetles together ; and our 
friend was engaged. Immediately after the betrothal came 
the marriage, for there was no reason for delay. 

The following day passed pleasantly, and the next in toler- 
able comfort ; but on the third it was time to think of food for 
the wife, and perhaps for children. 

“T have allowed myself to be taken in,” said our Beetle to 
himself. “ And now there’s nothing for it but to take them 
in, in turn.” 

So said, so done. Away he went, and he stayed away all 
day, and stayed away all night; and his wife sat there, a for- 
saken widow. 

“QO,” said the other Beetles, “this fellow whom we re- 
ceived into our family is nothing more than a thorough vaga- 
bond. He has gone away, and has left his wife a burden upon 
our hands.” 

“Well, then, she shall be unmarried again, and sit here 
“among my daughters,” said the mother. “ Fie on the villain 
who forsook her!” 

In the mean time, the Beetle had been journeying on, and 
had sailed across the ditch on a cabbage-leaf. In the morn- 
ing two persons came to the ditch. When they saw him, they 
took him up, and turned him over, and looked very learned, 
especially one of them — a boy. 

“ Allah sees the black beetle in the black stone and in the 


LEE BELT LE: 313 


black rock. Is not that written in the Koran?” Then he 
translated the Beetle’s name into Latin, and enlarged upon 
the creature’s nature and history. The second person, an 
older scholar, voted for carrying him home. He said they 
wanted just such good specimens; this seemed an_ uncivil 
speech to our Beetle, and in consequence he flew suddenly 
out of the speaker’s hand. As he now had dry wings, he 
flew a tolerable distance, and reached a hot-bed, where a sash 
of the glass roof was partly open, so he quietly slipped in 
and buried himself .in the warm earth. 

“Very comfortable it is here,” said he. 

Soon after he went to sleep, and dreamed that the Em- 
peror’s favorite horse had fallen, and had given him his golden 
shoes, with the promise that he should have two more. 

That was all very charming. When the Beetle woke up, he 
_ crept forth and looked around him. What splendor was in 
the hot-house! In the background great palm-trees growing 
up on high; the sun made them look transparent ; and _be- 
neath them what a luxuriance of green, and of beaming flowers, 
red as fire, yellow as amber, or white as fresh-fallen snow? 

“This is an incomparable plenty of plants,” cried the 
Beetle. “How good they will taste when they are decayed! 
A capital store-room this! There must certainly be relations 
of mine living here. I will just see if I can find any one with 
whom I may associate. I’m proud, certainly, and I’m proud 
of being so.” 

And so he prowled about in the earth, and thought what a 
pleasant dream that was about the dying horse, and the golden 
shoes he had inherited. 

Suddenly, a hand seized the Beetle, and pressed him, and 
turned him round and round. 


The gardener’s little son and a companion had come to the®» — - 


hot-bed, had espied the Beetle, and wanted to have their fun 
with him. First, he was wrapped in a vine-leaf, and then put 
into warm trousers pocket. He cribbled and crabbled about 
there with all his might ; but he got a good pressing from the 
boy’s hand for this, which served as a hint to him to keep 
quiet. Then the boy went rapidly toward the great lake that 
lay at the end of the garden. Here the Beetle was put in an 


314 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


old broken wooden shoe, on which a little stick was placed 
upright for a mast, and to this mast the Beetle was bound with 
a woolen thread. Now he was a sailor, and had to sail away. 

The lake was not very large, but to the Beetle it seemed an 
ocean; and he was so astonished at its extent, that he fell 
over on his back, and kicked out with his legs. 

The little ship sailed away. The current of the water seized 
it; but whenever it went too far from the shore, one of the 
boys turned up his trousers and went in after it, and brought 
it back to the land. But at length, just as it went merrily out 
again, the two boys were called away, and very harshly, so that 
they hurried to obey the summons, ran away from the lake, 
and left the little ship to its fate. Thus it drove away from 
the shore, farther and farther into the open sea ; it was terrible 
work for the Beetle, for he could not get away in consequence 
of being bound to the mast. 

Then a fly came and paid him a visit. 

“What beautiful weather!” said the Fly. “T’ll rest here, 
and sun myself. You’ve an agreeable time of it.” 

“ You speak without knowing the facts,” replied the Beetle. 
“Don’t you see that I’m a prisoner ?” 

‘‘ Ah! but I’m not a prisoner,” observed the Fly ; and he 
flew away accordingly. 

“Well, now I know the world,” said the Beetle to himself. 
“Tt is an abominable world. I’m the only hongst person in 
it. First, they refuse me my golden shoes ; then I have to lie 
on wet linen, and to stand in the draught ; and to crown all, 
they fasten a wife upon me. Then, when I’ve taken a quick 
step out into the world, and found out how one can have it 
there, and how I wished to have it, one of these human boys 
comes and ties me up, and leaves me to the mercy of the. wild 
waves, while the Emperor’s favorite horse prances about 
proudly in golden shoes. That is what annoys me more than 
all. But one must not look for sympathy in this world! My 
career has been very interesting ; but what’s the use of that, 
if nobody knows it? ‘The world does not deserve to be made 
acquainted with my history, for it ought to have given me 
golden shoes when the Emperor’s horse was shod, and I 
stretched out my feet to be shod too. If I had received 


fitter le LLL. 315 


golden shoes, I should have become an ornament to the 
stable. . Now, the stable has lost me, and the world has lost 
me. It is all over!” 

But all was not over yet. A boat, in which there were a 
few young girls, came rowing up. 

“Took, yonder is an old wooden shoe sailing along,” said 
one of the girls. . 

“'There’s a little creature bound fast to it,’”’ said another. 

The boat came quite close to our Beetle’s ship, and the 
young girls fished. him out of the water. One of them drew 
a small pair of scissors from her pocket, and cut the woolen 
thread, without hurting the Beetle ; and when she stepped on 
shore, she put him down on the grass. 

“Creep, creep — fly, fly —if thou canst,” she said. “ Lib- 
erty is a splendid thing.” 

And the Beetle flew up, and straight through the open win- 
dow of a great building; there he sank down, tired and 
exhausted, exactly on the mane of the Emperor’s favorite 
horse, who stood in the stable when he was at home, and the 
Beetle also. The Beetle clung fast to the mane, and sat there 
a short time to recover himself. 

“Here I’m sitting on the Emperor’s favorite horse, — sit- 
ting on him, just like the Emperor himself!” he cried. “ But 
what was I saying? Yes, now I remember. That’s a good 
‘thought, and quite correct. The smith asked me why the 
golden shoes were given to the horse. Now I’m quite clear 
about the answer. They were given to the horse on my ac- 
count.” 

And now the Beetle was in a good temper again. 

“Travelling expands the mind rarely,” said he. 

The sun’s rays came streaming into the stable, and shone 
upon him, and made the place lively and bright. 

“The world is not so bad, upon the whole,” said the Beetle ; 
“Dut one must know how to take things as they come.” 


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THE GALOSHES OF FORTUNE. 
i 


A Beginning. 


N a house in Copenhagen, not far from the King’s New Mar- | 
ket, a company —a very large company — had assembled, 
having received invitations to an evening party there. One 
half of the company already sat at the card-tables, the cther 
half awaited the result of the hostess’s question, ‘‘ What shall — 
we do now?” They had progressed so far, and the enter- 
tainment began to take some degree of animation. Among 
other subjects the conversation turned upon the Middle Ages. 
Some considered that period much more interesting than our 
own times: yes, Councilor Knap defended this view so zeal- 
ously that the lady of the house went over at once to his side ; 
and both loudly exclaimed against Oersted’s treatise in the 
Almanac on old and modern times, in which the chief advan- 
tage is given to our own day. The Councilor considered the 


THE GALOSHES OF FORTUNE. a7 


times of the Danish King Hans? as the noblest and happiest 
age. 

While the conversation takes this turn, only interrupted for 
a moment by the arrival of a newspaper, which contained 
nothing worth reading, we will betake ourselves to the ante- 
chamber, where the cloaks, sticks, and galoshes had found a 
place. Here sat two maids—an old one and a young one. 
One would have thought they had come to escort their mis- 
tresses home ; but, on looking at them more closely, the ob- 
server could see that they were not ordinary servants: their 
shapes were too graceful for that, their complexions too deli- 
cate, and the cut of their dresses too uncommon. ‘They were 
two fairies. ‘The younger was not Fortune, but lady’s-maid te 
one of her ladies of the bed-chamber, who carry about the 
more trifling gifts of Fortune. The elder one looked some- 
what more gloomy — she was Care, who always goes herself 
in her own exalted person to perform her business, for thus 
she knows that it is well done. | 

They were telling each other where they had been that day. 
The messenger of Fortune had only transacted a few unim- 
portant affairs, — as, for instance, she had preserved a new 
bonnet from a shower of rain, had procured an honest man a 
bow from a titled nobody, and so on ; but what she had stil] 
to relate was something quite extraordinary. 

“T can likewise tell,” said she, “ that to-day is my birthday; 
and in honor of it a pair of galoshes has been intrusted to 
me, which I am to bring to the human race. These galoshes 
have the property that every one who puts them on is at once 
transported to the time and place in which he likes best to be 
— every wish in reference to time, place, and circumstance is 
at once fulfilled ; and so for once man can be happy here 
below!” 

“Believe me,” said Care, “he will be very unhappy, and will 
bless the moment when he can get rid of the galoshes again.” 

“What are you thinking of ?” retorted the other. “Now I 
shall put them at the door. Somebody will take them by 
mistake, and become the happy one!” 

You see, that was the dialogue they held. 


1 A. D. 1482-1513. 


LD 


What happened to the Councilor. 


It was late. Councilor Knap, lost in contemplation of the 
times of King Hans, wished to get home; and fate willed. 
that instead of his own galoshes he should put on those of 
Fortune, and thus went out into East Street. But by the 
power of the galoshes he had been put back three hundred 
years —into the days of King Hans; and therefore he put 
his foot into mud and mire in the street, because in those 
days there was not any pavement. 

“Why, this is horrible — how dirty it is here!” said the 
Councilor. “The good pavement is gone, and all the lamps 
are put out.” | 

The moon did not yet stand high enough to give much 
light, and the air was tolerably thick, so that all objects 
seemed to melt together in the darkness. At the next cor- 
ner a lamp hung before a picture of the Madonna, but the 
light it gave was as good as none; he only noticed it when 
he stood just under it, and his eyes fell upon the painted 
figure. 

“That is probably a museum of art,” thought he, “where 
they have forgotten to take down the sign.” 

A couple of men in the costume of those past days went 
by him. 

“How they look!” he said. “They must come from a 
masquerade.” 


THE GALOSHES OF FORTUNE. 319 


Suddenly there was a sound of drums and fifes, and torches 
gleamed brightly. ‘The Councilor started. And now he saw 
a strange procession go past. First came a whole troop of 
drummers, beating their instruments very dexterously ; they 
were followed by men-at-arms, with long-bows and cross-bows. 
The chief man in the procession was a clerical lord. The 
astonished Councilor asked what was the meaning of this, 
and who the man might be. 

“'Thatis the Bishop of Zealand.” 

“What in the world. has come to the Bishop?” said the 
Councilor, with a sigh, shaking his head. “This can not 
possibly be the Bishop!” 

Ruminating on this, and without looking to the right or to 
the left, the Councilor went through East Street, and over 
the Highbridge Place. ‘The bridge which led to the Palace 
Square was not to be found; he perceived the shore of a 
shallow water, and at length encountered two people, who 
sat in a boat. 

“Do you wish to be ferried over to the Holm, sir?” they 
asked. 

“To the Holm!” repeated the Councilor, who did not 
know, you see, in what period he was. ‘I want to go to 
Christian’s Haven and to Little Turf Street.” 

The men stared at him. 

“Pray tell me where the bridge is?” said he. “ It is shame- 
ful that no lanterns are lighted here ; and it is as muddy, too, 
as if one were walking in a marsh.” But the longer he talked 
with the boatmen the less could he understand them. ‘I 
don’t understand your Bornholm talk,” he at last cried, an- 
grily, and turned his back upon them. He could not find the 
bridge, nor was there any paling. “It is quite scandalous 
how things look here!” he said —never had he thought his 
own times so miserable as this evening. “I think it will be 
best if I take a cab,” thought he. But where were the cabs? 
—not one was to be seen. “I shall have to go back to the 
King’s New Market, where there are many carriages stand- 
ing, otherwise I shall never get as far as Christian’s Haven.” 

Now he went toward East Street, and had almost gone 
through it when the moon burst forth. 


320 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


“What in the world have they been erecting here!” he 
exclaimed, when he saw the East Gate, which in those days 
stood at the end of East Street. 

In the mean time, however, he found a passage open, and 
through this he came out upon our New Market ; but it was a 
broad meadow. Single bushes stood forth, and across the 
meadow ran a great canal or stream. A few miserable 
wooden booths for Dutch skippers were erected on the oppo- 
site shore. : 

“Hither I behold a Fata Morgana, or I am tipsy,” sighed 
the Councilor. “ Whatcan that be? what can that be?” 

He turned back in the full persuasion that he must be ill. 
In walking up the street he looked more closely at the houses ; 
most of them were built of laths, and many were only thatched 
with straw. 

“No; [don’t feel well at alli” he lamented. “ And yer) 
only drank one glass of punch! But I cannot stand that ; 
and besides, it was very foolish to give us punch and warm 
salmon. I shall mention that to our hostess— the agent’s 
lady. Suppose I go back, and say how I feel? But that 
looks ridiculous, and it is a question if they will be up still.” 

He looked for the house, but could not find it. 

“That is dreadful!” he cried ; “I don’t know East Street 
again. Not one shop is to be seen ; old, miserable, tumble- 
down huts are all I see, as if I were at Roeskilde or Ring- 
stedt.)0,°I am ill! It’s no use to make ceremony.oepue 
where in all the world is the agent’s house? It is no longer 
the same; but within there are people up still. I certainly 
must be ill!” 

He now reached a half-open door, where the light shone 
through a chink. It was a tavern of that date—a kind of 
beer-house. The room had the appearance of a Dutch wine 
shop ; a number of people, consisting of seamen, citizens of 
Copenhagen, and a few scholars, sat in deep conversation 
over their jugs, and paid little attention to the new-comer. 

“T beg pardon,” said the Councilor to the hostess, “ but I 
feel very unwell ; would you let them get me a fly to go to 
Christian’s Haven ?” 

The woman looked at him and shook her head ; then she 
spoke to him in German. 


\ THE GALOSHES OF FORTUNE. 321 


The Councilor now supposed that she did not understand 
Danish, so he repeated his wish in the German language. 
This and his costume, convinced the woman that he was a 
foreigner. She soon understood that he felt unwell, and 
therefore brought him a jug of water. It certainly tasted a 
little of sea-water, though it had been taken from the spring 
outside. 

The Councilor leaned his head on his hand, drew a deep 
breath, and thought of all the strange things that were hap- 
pening about him. 

“Ts that to-day’s number of the ‘ Day ’?” he said quite me- 
chanically, for he saw that the woman was putting away a 
large sheet of paper. 

She did not understand what he meant, but handed him 
the leaf: it was a wood-cut representing a strange appearance 
in the air which had been seen in the city of Cologne. 

“That is very old!” said the Councilor, who became quite 
cheerful at sight of this antiquity. “ How did you come by 
this strange leaf? That is very interesting, although the whole 
thing is a fable. Nowadays these appearances are explained 
to be northern lights that have been seen ; probably they arise 
from electricity.” 

Those who sat nearest to him and heard his speech, looked 
at him in surprise, and one of them rose, took off his hat re- 
spectfully, and said with a very grave face, — 

“You must certainly be a very learned man, sir!” 

“Ono!” replied the Councilor ; “I can only say a word 
or two about things one ought to understand.” 

“ Modestia is a beautiful virtue,” said the man. “Moreover, 
I must say to your speech, ‘mhz secus videtur ;’ yet I will 
gladly suspend my judicium.” 

“May I ask with whom I have the pleasure of speaking ? ” 
asked the Councilor. 

“T am a bachelor of theology,” replied the man. 

This answer sufficed for the Councilor; the title corre- 
sponded with the garb. 

“Certainly,” he thought, “this must be an old village 
school-master, a queer character, such as one finds sometimes 
over in Jutland.” | 

21 


Bee ANDERSEN'S WONDER STORIES. 


“This is certainly not a locus docendi,” began the man ; “but 
I beg you to take the trouble to speak. You are doubtless 
well read in the ancients ?” 

“O yes,” replied the Councilor. “TI am fond of reading 
useful old books ; and am fond of the modern ones, too, with 
the exception of the ‘Every-day Stories,’ of which we have 
enough, in all conscience.” 

““« Rvery-day Stories ?’” said the Bachelor, inquiringly. 

‘Ves, I mean the new romances we have now.” 

“OQ!” said the man, with a: smile, “they are very witty, 
and-are much read at court. The King is especially partial 
to the romance by Messieurs Iffven and Gaudian, which talks 
about King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table. He 
has jested about it with his noble lords.” * 

‘That I have certainly not yet read,” said the Councilor: 
“that must be quite a new book published by Heiberg.” 

“No,” retorted the man, “it is not published by Heiberg, 
but by Godfrey von Gehmen.’ 

“Indeed! is he the author?” asked the Councilor. ‘ That 
is a very old name: was not that the name of about the first 
printer who appeared in Denmark ?” 

“Why, he zs our first printer,” replied the man. 

So far it had gone well. But now one of the men began to 
speak of a pestilence which he said had been raging a few 
years ago; he meant the plague of 1484. The Councilor 
supposed that he meant the cholera, and so the conversation 
went on tolerably. The Freebooters’ War of 1490 was so 
recent that it could not escape mention. ‘The English pirates 
had taken ships from the very wharves, said the man ; and 
the Councilor, who was well acquainted with the events of 
1801, joined in manfully against the English. The rest of the 
talk, however, did not pass over so well : every moment there 

1 Holberg relates in his Stories of Denmark's Kings that King Hans one 
day, when he had been reading in the Romance of King Arthur, said in 
jest to his boon companion, Otto Rud, whom he loved much: “ These 
Knights, [ffven and Gaudian, whom I find in this book, must have been 
wonderful knights, such as one does not find nowadays ;”? whereupon 
Otto Rud replied: “If there were such a champion as King Arthur, then 


would you find many such knights as Iffven and Gaudian.” 
2 The first printer and publisher in Denmark, under King Hans. 


IHEP CALOSTI LS OL: ORTON E: 325 


was a contradiction. The good Bachelor was terribly ignorant, 
and the simplest assertion of the Councilor seemed too bold 
or too fantastic. ‘They looked at each other, and when it be- 
came too bad, the Bachelor spoke Latin, in the hope that he 
would be better understood ; but it was of no use. 

“ How are you now?” asked the Hostess, and she plucked 
the Councilor by the sleeve. 

Now his recollection came back ; in the course of the con- 
versation he had forgotten everything that had happened. 

“Good heavens! where am I?” he said, and he felt dizzy 
when he thought of it. 

“We'll drink claret, mead, and Bremen beer,” cried one of 
the guests, “and you shall drink with us.” 

Two girls came in. One of them had ona cap of two col- 
ors. ‘They poured out drink and bowed; the Councilor felt 
a cold shudder running all down his back. ‘“ What’s that? 
what’s that?” he cried; but he was obliged to drink with 
them. ‘They took possession of the good man quite politely. 
He was in despair, and when one said that he was tipsy he 
felt not the slightest doubt regarding the truth of the state- 
ment, and only begged them to procure him a droschky. Now 
they thought he was speaking Muscovite. 

Never had he been in such rude, vulgar company. 

“One would think the country was falling back into hea- 
thenism,” was his reflection. “This is the most terrible mo- 
ment of my life.” 

But at the same time the idea occurred to him to bend down 
under the table, and then to creep to the door. He did so; 
but just as he had reached the entry the others discovered his 
intention. They seized him by the feet; and now the ga- 
loshes, to his great good fortune, came off, and — the whole 
enchantment vanished. 

The Councilor saw quite plainly, in front of him, a lamp 
burning, and behind it a great building ; everything looked 
familiar and splendid. It was East Street, as we know it now. 
He lay with his legs turned toward a porch, and opposite to 
him sat the watchman asleep. 

“Good heavens! have I been lying here in the street 
dreaming?” he exclaimed. ‘Yes, this is East Street, sure 


324 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


enough! how splendidly bright and gay! It is terrible what 
an effect that one glass of punch must have had on me!” 

Two minutes afterward he was sitting in a fly, which drove 
him out to Christian’s Haven. He thought of the terror and 
anxiety he had undergone, and praised from his heart the 
happy present, our own time, which, with all its shortcomings, 
was far better than the period in which he had been placed a 
short time before, 


Tit. 


The Watchman’s Adventures. 


“Qn my word, yonder lies a pair of galoshes!” said the 
Watchman. ‘They must certainly belong to the Lieutenant 
who lives up-stairs. They are lying close to the door.” 

The honest man would gladly have rung the bell and deliv- 
ered them, for up-stairs there was a light still burning ; but he 
did not wish to disturb the other people in the house, and so 
he let it alone. 

“It must be very warm to have a pair of such things on,” 
said he. “ How nice and soft the leather is!” They fitted 
his feet very well. “ How droll it is in the world! Now, he 
might lie down in his warm bed, and yet he does not! There 
he is, pacing up and down the room. He is a happy man! 


THE GALOSHES OF FORTUNE. 325 


He has neither wife nor children, and every evening he is at 
a party. QO, I wish I were he, then I should be a happy 
man !” 

As he uttered the wish, the galoshes he had put on pro- 
duced their effect, and the Watchman was transported into the 
body and being of the Lieutenant. Then he stood up in the 
room, and held a little pink paper in his fingers, on which was 
a poem,— a poem written by the Lieutenant himself. For who 
is there who has not, once in his life, had a poetic moment? 
and at such a moment, if one writes down one’s thoughts, 
there is poetry. 


©, WERE I RICH! 


“OQ, were LT rich!” Such was my wish, yea such, 

When hardly three feet high, I longed for much. 
O, were I rich! an officer were I, 
With sword, and uniform, and plume so high. 
And the time came —an officer was I! 

But yet I grew not rich. Alas, poor me ! 

Have pity Thou, who all man’s wants dost see. 


' I sat one evening sunk in dreams of bliss, 
A maid of seven years old gave me a kiss. 
I at that time was rich in poesy 
And tales of old, though poor as poor could be; 
But all she asked for was this poesy. 
Then was I rich, but not in gold, poor me! 
As Thou dost know, who all men’s hearts canst see. 


O, were I rich! Oft asked I for this boon. 

The child grew up to womanhood full soon, 
She is so pretty, clever, and so kind ; 
O, did she know what’s hidden in my mind ; —’ 
A tale of old. Would she to me were kind! 

But I’m condemned to silence; O, poor me! 

As Thou dost know, who all men’s hearts canst see. 


O, were [ rich in calm and peace of mind, 
My grief you then would not here written find! 
O thou, to whom I do my heart devote, 
O, read this page of glad days now remote, 
A dark, dark tale, which I to night devote ! | 
Dark is the future now. Alas, poor me! 
Have pity Thou, who all men’s pains dost see. 


32 6 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORTES. 


Yes, people write poetry when they are in love; but a 
prudent man does not print such poems. The Lieutenant was 
in love —and poor — that’s a triangle, or, so to speak, the 
half of a broken square of happiness. The Lieutenant felt 
that very keenly, and so he laid his head against the window- + 
frame and sighed a deep sigh. 

‘The poor watchman in the street yonder is far happier 
than I. He does not know what I call want. He has a 
home, a wife and children, who weep at his.sorrow, and rejoice 
at his joy. O! I should be happier than I am, could I 
change my being for his, and pass through life with his humble 
desires and hopes. Yes, he is happier than I!” 

In that same moment the Watchman became a watchman 
again ; for through the power of the galoshes of Fortune, he 
had assumed the personality of the Lieutenant: but then we 
know he felt far less content, and preferred to be just what he 
had despised a short time before. So the Watchman became 
a watchman again. 

“That was an ugly dream,” said he, “but droll enough. 
It seemed to me that I was the Lieutenant up yonder, and that 
it was not pleasant at all. I was without the wife and the 
boys, who are now ready to half stifle me with kisses.” 

He sat down again and nodded. The dream would not go 
quite out of his thoughts. He had the galoshes still on his 
feet. A falling star glided down along the horizon. 

“There went one,” said he, “ but for all that, there are 
enough left. I should like to look at those things a little 
nearer, especially the moon, for that won’t vanish under one’s 
hands. The student for whom my wife washes, says that 
when we die we fly from one star to another. That's not 
true, but it would be very nice. If I could only make a little 
spring up there, then my body might lie here on the stairs for 
all I care.” 

Now there are certain assertions we should be very cautious 
of making in this world, but doubly careful when we have 
galoshes of Fortune on our feet. Just hear what happened to 
the Watchman. 

So far as we are concerned, we all understand the rapidity 
of dispatch by steam ; we have tried it either in railways, or 


THE VGALOSHES (OF FORTUNE: 327 


in steamers across the sea. But this speed is as the crawling 
of the sloth, or the march of the snail in comparison with the 
swiftness with which light travels. That flies nineteen million 
times quicker. Death is an electric shock we receive in our 
hearts, and on the wings of electricity the liberated soul flies 
away. ‘The sunlight requires eight minutes and a few seconds 
for a journey of more than ninety-five millions of miles ; on 
the wings of electric power the soul requires only a few mo- 
ments to accomplish the same flight. ‘The space between the 
orbs of the universe is, for her, not greater than, for us, the - 
distances between the houses of our friends dwelling in the 
same town, and even living close together. Yet this electric 
shock costs us the life of the body here below, unless, like the 
Watchman, we have the magic galoshes on. 

In a few seconds the Watchman had traversed the distance 
of two hundred and sixty thousand miles to the moon, which 
body, as we know, consists of a much lighter material than 
that of our earth, and is, as we should say, soft as new-fallen 
snow. He found himself on one of the many ring mountains 
with which we are familiar from Dr. Madler’s great map of the 
moon. Within the ring, a great bowl-shaped hollow went 
down to the depth of a couple of miles. At the base of the 
hollow lay a town, of whose appearance we can only form an 
idea by pouring the white of an egg into a glass of water ; 
the substance here was just as soft as white of egg, and 
formed similar towers, and cupolas, and terraces like sails, 
transparent and floating in the thin air. Our earth hung over 
his head like a great, dark, red ball. 

He immediately became aware of a number of beings, who 
were certainly what we call “men,” but their appearance was 
very different from ours. A far more correct imagination than 
that of the pseudo-Herschel * had created them. If they had 
been put up in a row and painted, one would have said, 
“That’s a beautiful arabesque!” They had also a language, 
but no one could expect that the soul of the Watchman should 


1 This relates to a book published some years ago in Germany, and said 
to be by Herschel, which contained a description of the moon and its 
inhabitants, written with such a semblance of truth that many were 
deceived by the 1mposture. 


328 ANDERSEN'S WONDER STORIES. 


understand it. But the Watchman’s soul did understand it, 
for our souls have far greater abilities than we suppose. Does 
not its wonderful dramatic talent show itself in our dreams ? 
Then every one of our acquaintances appears, speaking in his 
own character, and with his own voice, in a way that not one 
of us could imitate in our waking hours. How does our soul 
bring back to us people of whom we have not thought for 
many years? Suddenly they come into our souls, with their 
smallest peculiarities about them. In fact-it is a fearful thing, 
that memory which our souls possess ; it can reproduce every 
sin, every bad thought. And then, it may be asked, shall we 
be able to give an account of every idle word that has been 
in our hearts and on our hips? 

Thus the Watchman’s soul understood the language of the 
people in the moon very well. They disputed about this earth, 
and doubted if it could be inhabited ; the air, they asserted, 
must be too thick for a sensible moon-man to live there. 
They considered that the moon alone was peopled ; for that, 
they said, was the real body in which the old-world people 
dwelt. They also talked of politics. 

But let us go down to the East Street, and see how it fared 
with the body of the Watchman. 

He sat lifeless upon the stairs. His pike had fallen out of 
his hand, and his eyes stared up at the moon, which his honest 
body was wondering about. 

‘““What’s o’clock, Watchman?” asked a passer-by. But the 
man who didn’t answer was the Watchman. Then the passen- 
gers tweaked him quite gently by the nose, and then he lost 
his balance. There lay the body stretched out at full length 
—the man was dead. All his comrades were very much 
frightened: dead he was, and dead he remained. It was re- 
ported, and it was discussed, and in the morning the body was 
carried out to the hospital. 

That would be a pretty jest for the soul if it should chance to 
come back, and probablv seek its body in the East Street, and 
not find it! Most likely it would go first to the police and af 
terward to the address office, that inquiries might be made 
from thence respecting the missing goods ; and then it would 
wander out to the hospital. But we may console ourselves 


THE GALOSHLS OF FORTUNE. 329 


with the idea that the soul is most clever when it acts upon its 
own account ; it is the body that makes it stupid. 

As we have said, the Watchman’s body was taken to the 
hospital, and brought into the washing-room ; and naturally 
enough, the first thing they did there was to pull off the ga- 
loshes ; and then the soul had to come back. It took its way 
directly toward the body, and in a few seconds there was life 
in the man. He declared that this had been the most terrible 
night of his life; he would not have such feelings again, not 
for a shilling ; but now it was past and over. 

‘The same day he was allowed to leave ; but the galoshes 
remained at the hospital. 


LY. 


A Great Moment. — A very Unusual Fourney. 


Every one who belongs to Copenhagen knows. the look of 
the entrance to the Frederick’s Hospital in Copenhagen ; but 
as, perhaps, a few will read this story who do not belong to 
Copenhagen, it becomes necessary to give a short description 
of it. 


330 ANDERSEN'S WONDER STORIES. 


The hospital is separated from the street, by a tolerably 
high railing, in which the thick iron rails stand so far apart 
that certain very thin inmates are said to have squeezed be- 
tween them, and thus paid their little visits outside the prem- 
ises. The part of the body most difficult to get through was 
the head ; and here, as. it often happens in the world, small 
heads were the most fortunate. ‘This will be sufficient as an 
introduction. 

One of the young volunteers, of whom one could only say in 
one sense that he had a great head, had the watch that even- 
ing. The rain was pouring down ; but in spite of this obsta- 
cle he wanted to go out, only for a quarter of an hour. It was 
needless, he thought, to tell the porter of his wish, especially 
if he could slip through between the rails. There lay the ga- 
loshes which the Watchman had forgotten. It never occurred 
to him in the least that they were galoshes of Fortune. They 
would do him very good service in this rainy weather, and he 
pulled them on. Now the question was whether he could 
squeeze through the bars; till now he had never tried it. 
There he stood. 

“T wish to goodness I had my head outside! ” cried he. 
And immediately, though his head was very thick and big, it 
glided easily and quickly through. The galoshes must have 
understood it well ; but now the body was to slip through also, 
and that could not be done. 

“T’m too fat,” said he. “I thought my head was the thick: 
est.) ltsha n't get through.” 

Now he wanted to pull his head back quickly, but he could 
not manage it: he could move his neck, but that was all. 
His first feeling was one of anger, and then his spirit sank 
down to zero. The galoshes of Fortune had placed him in 
this terrible condition, and, unfortunately, it never occurred to 
him to wish himself free. No: instead of wishing, he only 
strove, and could not stir from the spot. ‘The rain poured 
down ; not a creature was to be seen in the street ; he could 
not reach the gate bell, and how was he to get loose? He 
foresaw that he would have to remain here until the morning, 
and then they would have to send for a blacksmith, to file 
through the iron bars. But such a business is not to be done 


THE GALOSHES OF FORTUNE. 331 
quickly. The entire charity school would be upon its legs ; 
the whole sailors’ quarter close by would come up and see him 
standing in the pillory ; and a fine crowd there would be. 

“Hu!” he cried, “the blood’s rising to my head, and I 
shall go mad! Yes, ay going mad! If I were free, most 
likely it would pass over.’ 

That’s what he ought to have ce at first. The very mo- 
ment he had uttered the thought his head was free ; and 
now he rushed in, quite dazed with the fright the galoshes 
of Fortune had given him. But we must not think the whole 
affair was over ; there was much worse to come yet. 

The night passed away, and the following day too, and no- 
body sent for the galoshes. In the evening a display of ora- 
tory was to take place in an amateur theatre in a distant street. 
The house was crammed ; and among the audience was the 
Volunteer from the hospital, who appeared to have forgotten his 
adventure of the previous evening. He had the galoshes on, 
for they had not been sent for ; and as it was dirty in the 
streets, they might do him good service. A new piece was re- 
cited: it was called ““My Aunt’s Spectacles.” These were 
spectacles which, when any one put them on in a great assem- 
bly of people, made all present look lke cards, so that one 
could prophesy from them all that would happen in the coming 
year. 

The idea struck him ; he would have liked to possess such a 
pair of spectacles. If they were used rightly, they would 
perhaps enable the wearer to look into people’s hearts; and 
that, he thought, would be more interesting than to see what 
was going to happen in the next year ; for future events would 
be known in time, but the people’s thoughts never. 

“ Now I'll look at the row of Jadies and gentlemen on the 
first bench ; if one could look directly into their hearts! yes, 
that must be a hollow, a sort of shop. How my eyes would 
wander about in that shop! In every lady’s yonder, I should 
doubtless find a great milliner’s warehouse ; with this one 
here, the shop is empty, but it would do no harm to have it 
cleaned out. But would there really be such shops? Ah, 
yes!” he continued, sighing, “I know one in which all the 
goods are first-rate, but there’s a servant in it already ; that’s 


832 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


the only drawback in the whole shop! From one and another | 
the word would be ‘ Please to step in!’ Q, that I might only 
step in, like a neat little thought, and slip through their 
hearts !” 

That was the word of command for the galoshes. The Vol- 
unteer shriveled up, and began to take a very remarkable 
journey through the hearts of the first row of spectators. 
The first heart through which he passed was that of a lady ; 
but he immediately fancied himself in the Orthopedic Insti- 
tute, in the room where the plaster casts of deformed limbs 
are kept hanging against the walls ; the only difference was, 
that these casts were formed in the Institute when the patients 
came in, but here in the heart they were formed and preserved 
after the good persons had gone away. For they were casts 
of female friends, whose bodily and mental faults were pre- 
served here. 

Quickly he had passed into another female heart. But this 
seemed to him like a great holy church; the white dove of 
innocence fluttered over the high altar. Gladly would he 
have sunk down on his knees ; but he was obliged to go away 
into the next heart. Still, however, he heard the tones of the 
organ, and it seemed to him that he himself had become 
another and a better man. He felt himself not unworthy to 
enter into the next sanctuary, which showed itself in the form 
of a poor garret, containing a sick mother. But through the 
window the warm sun streamed in, and two sky-blue birds sang 
full of childlike joy, while the sick mother prayed for a bless- 
ing on her daughter. . 

Now he crept on his hands and knees through an overfilled 
butcher’s shop. ‘There was meat, and nothing but meat, 
wherever he went. It was the heart: of a rich, respectable 
man, whose name is certainly to be found in the address book. 

Now he was in the heart of this man’s wife ; this heart was 
an old dilapidated pigeon-house. The husband’s portrait was 
used as a mere weathercock ; it stood in connection with the 
doors, and these doors opened and shut according as the 
husband turned. 

Then he came into a cabinet of mirrors, such as we find in 
the castle of Rosenburg ; but the mirrors magnified in a great 


THE GALOSHES OF FORTUNE. 333 


degree. In the middle of the floor sat, like a Grand Lama, 
the insignificant 7 of the proprietor, astonished in the con- 
templation of his own greatness. 

Then he fancied himself transported into a narrow needle- 
case full of pointed needles ; and he thought, “ This must de- 
cidedly be the heart of an old maid!” But that was not the 
case. It was a young officer, wearing several orders, and of 
whom one said, ‘‘ He’s a man of intellect and heart.” 

Quite confused was the poor Volunteer when he emerged 
from the heart of the last person in the first row. He could 
not arrange his thoughts, and fancied it must be his powerful 
imagination which had run away with him. 

“ Gracious powers!” he sighed, “I must certainly have a 
great tendency to go mad. It is also unconscionably hot in 
here ; the blood is rising to my head !” 

And now he remembered the great event of the last evening, 
how his head had been caught between the iron rails of the 
hospital. 

“‘That’s where I must have caught it,” thought he. “I 
must do something at once. A Russian bath might be very 
good. I wish I were lying on the highest board in the bath- 
house.” ? 

And there he lay on the highest board in the vapor-bath ; 
but he was lying there in all lis clothes, in boots and galoshes, 
and the hot drops from the ceiling were falling on his face. 

“ Hi!” he cried, and jumped down to take a plunge bath. 

The attendant uttered a loud cry on seeing a person there 
with all his clothes on. The Volunteer had, however, enough 
presence of mind to whisper to him, “It’s for a wager!” But 
the first thing he did when he got into his own room, was to 
put a big blister on the nape of his neck, and another on his 
back, that they might draw out his madness. 

Next morning he had a very sore back ; and that was all he 
had got by the galoshes of Fortune. 


1 Tn these Russian (vapor) baths the person extends himself on a bank 
or form, and as he gets accustomed to the heat, moves to another higher 
up towards the ceiling, where, of course, the vapor is warmest. In this 
manner, he ascends gradually to the highest. 


fi, 

Age 
\ mi il 
$ \ A 
‘A WA 


Or 


NO 
AN Yt | 


joc 


The Transformation of the Copying Clerk. 


The Watchman, whom we surely have not yet forgotten, in 
the mean time thought of the galoshes, which he had found 
and brought to the hospital. He took them away; but as 
neither the Lieutenant nor any one in the street would own 
them, they were taken to the police office.’ 

“They look exactly like my own galoshes,” said one of the 
copying gentlemen, as he looked at the unowned articles and 
put them beside his own. “More than a shoemaker’s eye is 
required to distinguish them from one another.” 

“Mr. Copying Clerk,” said a servant, coming in with some 
papers. 

‘The Copying Clerk turned and spoke to the man: when 
he had done this, he turned to look at the galoshes again ; 
he was in great doubt if the right-hand or the left-hand pair 
belonged to him. 


1 As on the Continent in all law and police practices nothing is verbal, 
but any circumstance, however trifling, is reduced to writing, the labor, as 
well as the number of papers that thus accumulate, is enormous. In a 
police office, consequently, we find copying clerks among many other 
scribes of various denominations, of which, it seems, our hero was one. 


THE GALOSHES OF FORTUNE. B05 


“It must be those that are wet,” he thought. Now here he 
thought wrong, for these were the galoshes of Fortune ; but 
why should not the police be sometimes mistaken? He put 
them on, thrust his papers into his pocket, and put a few 
manuscripts under his arm, for they were to be read at home, 
and abstracts to be made from them. But now it was Sun- 
day morning, and the weather was fine. “A walk to Fred- 
ericksburg would do me good,” said he; and he went out 
accordingly. 

There could not be a quieter, steadier person than this 
young man. We grant him his little walk with all our hearts ; 
it will certainly do him good after so much sitting. At first 
he only walked like a vegetating creature, so the galoshes 
had no opportunity of displaying their magic power. 

In the avenue he met an acquaintance, one of our younger 
poets, who told him that he was going to start, next day, on 
a summer trip. 

“ Are you going away again already?” asked the Copying 
Clerk. “What a happy, free man you are! You can fly 
wherever you like ; we others have a chain to our foot.” 

“But it is fastened to the bread-tree!” replied the Poet. 
“You need not be anxious for the morrow; and when you 
grow old you get a pension.” 

“But you are better off, after all,” said the Copying Clerk. 
“Tt must be a pleasure to sit and write poetry. Everybody 
says agreeable things to you, and then you are your own mas- 
ter. Ah, you should just try it, poring over the frivolous 
affairs in the court.” 

The Poet shook his head; the Copying Clerk shook his 
head also: each retained his own opinion ; and thus they 
parted. 

“They are a strange race, these poets!” thought the Copy- 
ing Clerk. “J should like to try and enter into such a nature 
— to become a poet myself. I am certain I should not write 
such complaining verses as the rest. What a splendid spring 
day for a poet! The air is so remarkably clear, the clouds 
are so beautiful. and the green smells so sweet. For many 
years I have not felt as I feel at this moment.” 

We already notice that he has become a poet. To point 


3 36 ANDERSEN'S WONDER STORIES. 


this out would, in most cases, be what the Germans. call 
“mawkish.” It is a foolish fancy to imagine a poet different 
from other people, for among the latter there may be natures 
more poetical than those of many an acknowledged poet. 
The difference is only that the poet has a better spiritual 
memory: his ears hold fast the feeling and the idea until they 
are embodied clearly and firmly in words; and the others 
cannot do that. But the transition from an every-day nature 
to that of a poet is always a transition, and as such it must 
be noticed in the Copying Clerk. 

“What glorious fragrance!” he cried. ‘ How it reminds 
me of the violets at Aunt Laura’s! Yes, that was when I 
was alittle boy. I have not thought of that for a long time. 
The good old lady! She lies yonder by the canal. She 
always had a twig or a couple of green shoots in the water, 
let the winter be as severe as it might. The violets bloomed, 
while I had to put warm farthings against the frozen window- 
panes to make peep-holes. ‘That was a pretty view. Out in 
the canal the ships were frozen in, and deserted by the whole 
crew; a screaming crow was the only living creature left. 
Then when the spring breezes blew, it all became lively: the 
ice was sawn asunder amid shouting and cheers, the ships 
were tarred and rigged, and then they sailed away to strange 
lands. I remained here, and must always remain, and sit at 
the police office, and let others take passports for abroad. 
That’s my fate. O yes!” and he sighed deeply. Suddenly 
he paused. “Good Heaven! what is come tome? I never 
thought or felt as I do now. It must be the spring air ; it 
is just as dizzying as itis charming!” He felt in his pockets 
for his papers. “These will give me something else to think 
of,” said he, and let his eyes wander over the first leaf. 
There he read: “‘ Dame Sigbirth ; an original tragedy in five 
acts.’ What is that? And it is my own hand. Have I 
written this tragedy? ‘The Intrigue on the Promenade ; or 
the Day of Penance. — Vaudeville.’ But where did I get that 
from? It must have been put into my pocket. Here is a 
jetter.: . Yes, it is: from the manager~of the theatre; the 
pieces are rejected, and the letter is not at all politely 
worded. H’m! h’m!” said the Copying Clerk, and he sat 


THE GALOSHES OF FORTUNE. a8) 


down upon a bench: his thoughts were elastic ; his head was 
quite soft. Involuntarily he grasped one of the nearest flow- 
ers ; it was a common little daisy. What the botanists re- 
quire several lectures to explain to us, this flower told in 
a minute. It told the glory of its birth ; it told of the strength 
of the sunlight, which spread out the delicate leaves and 
made them give out fragrance. ‘Then he thought of the bat- 
tles of life, which likewise awaken feelings in our breasts. 
Air and light are the lovers of the flower, but light is the 
favored one. ‘Toward the light it turned, and only when the 
light vanished, the flower rolled her leaves together and slept 
in the embrace of the air. 

“Tt is light that adorns me!” said the Flower. 

“ But the air allows you to breathe,” whispered the poet’s 
voice. 

Just by him stood a boy, knocking with his stick upon the 
marshy ground. The drops of water spurted up among the 
green twigs, and the Copying Clerk thought of the millions 
of infusoria which were cast up on high with the drops, which 
was the same to them, in proportion to their size, as it would 
be to us if we were hurled high over the region of clouds. And 
the Copying Clerk thought of this, and of the great change 
which had taken place within him; he smiled. “I sleep 
and dream! It is wonderful though, how naturally one can 
dream, and yet know all the time that it is-a dream. I 
should like to be able to remember it all clearly to-morrow 
when I wake. I seem to myself quite unusually excited. 
What a clear appreciation I have of everything, and how free 
I feel! But I am certain that if I remember anything of it 
to-morrow, it will be nonsense. ‘That has often been so with 
me before. It is with all the clever famous things one says 
and hears in dreams, as with the money of the elves under 
the earth; when one receives it, it is rich and beautiful, but 
looked at by daylight, it is nothing but stones and dried 
leaves. Ah!” he sighed, quite plaintively, and gazed at the 
chirping birds, as they sprang merrily from bough to bough, 
“they are much better off than I. - Flying is a noble art. 
Happy he who is born with wings. | Yes, if I could change 
myself into anything, it should be into a lark.” 


a9 
—— 


338 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES 


In a moment his coat-tails and sleeves grew together and 
formed wings ; his clothes became feathers, and his galoshes 
claws. He noticed it quite plainly, and laughed inwardly. 
“Well, now I can see that I am dreaming, but so wildly I 
have never dreamed before.” And he flew up into the green 
boughs and sang; but there was no poetry in the song, for 
the poetic nature was gone. The galoshes, like every one 
who wishes to do any business thoroughly, could only do one 
thing at a time. He wished to be a poet, and he became one. 
Then he wished to be a little bird, and, in changing thus, the 
former peculiarity was lost. a: 

“That is charming!” he said. “In the day-time I sit in 
the police office among the driest of law papers ; at night, I 
can dream that I am flying about as a lark in the Fredericks- 
burg Garden. One could really write quite a popular comedy 
upon it.” 

Now he flew down into the grass, turned his head in every 
direction, and beat with his beak upon the bending stalks of 
grass, which, in proportion to his size, seemed to him as long 
as palm branches of Northern Africa. 

It was only for a moment, and then all around him became 
as the blackest night. It seemed to him that some immense 
substance was cast over him; it was a great cap, which a 
sailor boy threw over the bird. A hand came in and seized 
the Copying Clerk by the back and wings in a way that made 
him whistle. In his first terror he cried aloud, ‘The impu- 
dent rascal! J am Copying Clerk at the police office!” But 
that sounded to the boy only. like “Piep! piep!” and he 
tapped the bird on the beak and wandered on with him. 

In the alley, the boy met with two other boys, who belonged 
to the educated classes, socially speaking ; but according to 
abilities, they ranked in the lowest class in the school. These 
bought the bird for a few Danish skillings ; and so the Copy- 
ing Clerk was carried back to Copenhagen. 

“Tt’s a good thing that I am dreaming,” he said, “or I 
should become really angry. First I was a poet, and now I’m 
alark! Yes, it must have been the poetic nature which trans- 
formed me into that little creature. It is a miserable state of 
things, especially when one falls into the hands of boys. I 
should like to know what the end of it will be ” 


THE GALOSHES OF FORTUNE. 339 


The boys carried him into a very elegant room. A stout, 
smiling lady received them. But she was not at all gratified 
to see the common field bird, as she called the lark, coming in 
too. Only for one day she would consent to it ; but they must 
put the bird in the empty cage which stood by the window. 

“ Perhaps that will please Polly,” she added, and laughed at 
a great Parrot, swinging himself proudly in his ring in the 
handsome brass cage. 

“It’s Polly’s birthday,” she said simply, “so the little field 

bird shall congratulate him.” 
' Polly did not answer a single word ; he only swung proudly 
to and fro. But a pretty Canary-bird, who had been brought 
here last summer out of his warm, fragrant father-land, began 
to sing loudly. 7 

“Screamer!” said the lady ; and she threw a white hand- 
kerchief over the cage. 

“Piep, piep!” sighed he ; “here’s a terrible snow-storm.”’ 
And thus sighing, he was silent. 

The Copying Clerk, or, as the lady called him, the field bird, 
was placed in a little cage close to the Canary, and not far 
from the Parrot. The only human words which Polly could 
say, and which often sounded very comically, were ‘“ Come, det’s 
be men, now /” Everything else that he screamed out was 
just as unintelligible as the song of the Canary-bird, except 
for the Copying Clerk, who was now also a bird, and who un- 
derstood his comrades very well, 

“T flew under the green palm-tree and the blossoming al- 
mond-tree!” sang the Canary. “I flew with my brothers 
and sisters over the beautiful flowers and over the bright sea, 
where the plants waved in the depths. I also saw many beau- 
tiful parrots, who told the merriest stories.” 

“Those were wild birds,” replied the Parrot. ‘ They had 
no education. Let us be men now! Why don’t you laugh? 
If the lady and all the strangers could laugh at it, so can you. 
It is a great fault to have no taste for what is pleasant. No, 
Jet us be men now.” 

“Do you remember the pretty girls who danced under the 
tents spread out beneath the blooming trees? Do you remem- 
ber the sweet fruits, and the cooling juice in the wild plants?” 


340 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


“Oh, yes!” replied the Parrot ; “ but here I am far better 
off. JI have good care and genteel treatment. I know I’ve 
a good head, and I don’t ask for more. Let us be men now. 
You are what they call a poetic soul. I have thorough knowl- 
edge and wit. You have genius, but no prudence. You 
mount up into those high natural notes of yours, and then you ~ 
get covered up. ‘That is never done to me; no, no, for I 
cost them a little more. J make an impression with my beak, 
and can cast wit round me. Come, let us be men! ” 

“OQ my poor blooming father-land!” sang the Canary. “TI 
will praise thy dark-green trees and thy quiet bays, where the 
branches kiss the clear watery mirror ; Ill sing of the joy of 
all my shining brothers and sisters, where the plants grow by 
the desert springs and the cactus grows.” 

“‘ Now, pray leave off these dismal tones,” cried the Parrot. 
“Sing something at which one can laugh! Laughter is the 
sign of the highest mental development. Look if a dog or 
a horse can laugh! No; they can cry; but laughter — that is 
given to men alone. Ho, ho, ho!” screamed Polly, and 
finished the jest with “ Let us be men now.” 

“You little gray Northern bird,” said the Canary ; “so you 
have also become a prisoner. It is certainly cold in your 
woods, but still liberty is there. Fly out! they have forgotten 
to close your cage ; the upper window is open. Fly, fly!” 

Instinctively the Copying Clerk obeyed, and flew forth from 
his prison. At the same moment the half opened door of the 
next room creaked, and stealthily, with fierce sparkling eyes, 
the house cat crept in, and made chase upon him. The 
Canary fluttered in its cage, the Parrot flapped its wings, and 
cried “ Let us be men now.” The Copying Clerk felt mortally 
afraid, and flew through the window, away over the houses 
and streets ; at last he was obliged to rest a little. 

he pone’ opposite had a homelike look ; one of the win- 
dows stood open, and he flew in. It was his own room ; he 
perched upon the table. ; 

“Let us be men now,” he broke out, involuntarily imitating 
the Parrot ; and in the same moment he was restored to the 
form of the Copying Clerk ; but he was sitting on the table. 

‘‘Hleaven preserve me!” he cried. “ How could I have 


THE GALOSHES OF FORTUNE. 341 


come here and fallen so soundly asleep? It was an unquiet 
dream, too, that I had. The whole thing was great non- 


Feral 


45a ee 


Po nee eres 


VE 


The Best that the Gatloshes brought. 


On the following day, quite early in the morning, as the 
Clerk still lay in bed, there came a tapping at his door: it was 
his neighbor who lodged on the same floor, a young Theolo- 
gian ; and he came in. 

“Lend me your galoshes,” said he “It is very wet in the 
garden, but the sun shines gloriously, and I should like to 
smoke a pipe down there.” 

He put on the galoshes, and was soon in the garden, which 
contained a plum-tree and an apple-tree. Even a little gar- 
den like this is highly prized in the midst of great cities. 

The Theologian wandered up and down the path ; it was 
only six o’clock, and a post-horn sounded out in the street. 

“©, travelling, travelling!” he cried out, “that’s the 
sreatest happiness in all the world. That’s the highest goal 
of my wishes. Then this disquietude that I feel would be 
stilled. But it would have to be far away. I should like to 
see beautiful Switzerland, to travel through Italy, to” — 

Yes, it was a good thing that the galoshes took effect im- 


342 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


mediately, for he might have gone too far even for himself, 
and for us others too. He was travelling ; he was in the midst 
of Switzerland, packed tightly with eight others in the interior 
of a diligence. He had a headache and a weary feeling in 
his neck, and his feet had gone to sleep, for they were swollen 
by the heavy boots he had on. He was hovering in a con- 
dition between sleeping and waking. In his right-hand 
pocket he had his letter of credit, in his left-hand pocket his 
passport, and a few louis d’or were sewn into a little bag he 
wore on his breast. Whenever he dozed off, he dreamed he 
had lost one or other of these possessions; and then he 
would start up in a feverish way, and the first movement his 
hand made was to describe a triangle from left to right, and 
toward his breast, to feel whether he still possessed them or 
not. Umbrellas, hats, and walking sticks swung in the net 
over him, and almost took away the prospect, which was im- 
pressive enough: he glanced out at it, and his heart sang 
what one poet at least, whom we know, has sung in Switzer- 
land, but has not yet printed : — 

‘“<”T’is a prospect as fine as heart can desire, 

Before me Mont Blanc the rough : 


’T’is pleasant to tarry here and admire, 
If only you’ve money enough.” 


Great, grave, and dark was all nature around him. The 
pine woods looked like little mosses upon the high rocks, 
whose summits were lost in cloudy mists; and then it began 
to snow, and the wind blew cold. 

“Hu!” he sighed ; “if we were only on the other side of 
the Alps, then it would be summer, and I should have got 
money on my letter of credit ; my anxiety about this prevents 
me from enjoying Switzerland. O, if I were only at the 
other side! ” 

And then he was on the other side, in the midst of Italy, 
between Florence and Rome. The lake Thrasymene lay 
spread out in the evening light, like flaming gold among the 
dark-blue hills. Here, where Hannibal beat Flaminius, the 
grape-vines held each other by their green fingers ; pretty, 
half-naked children were keeping a herd of coal-black pigs 
under a clump of fragrant laurels by the way-side. If we 


THE GALOSHES OF FORTUNE. 343 


could reproduce this scene accurately, all would cry, “ Glorious 
Italy!” But neither the Theologian nor any of his travelling 
companions in the carriage of the vetturino thought this. 

Poisonous flies and gnats flew into the carriage by thou- 
sands. In vain they beat the air frantically with a myrtle 
branch — the flies stung them, nevertheless. There was not 
one person in the carriage whose face was not swollen and 
covered with stings. The poor horses looked miserable, the 
flies tormented them wofully, and it only mended the matter 
for a moment when the coachman dismounted and scraped 
them clean of the insects that sat upon them in great 
swarms. Now the sun sank down; at once an icy coldness 
pervaded all nature ; it was like the cold air of a funeral vault 
after the sultry summer day ; and all around the hills and 
clouds put on that remarkable green tone which we notice on 
some old pictures, and consider unnatural unless we have our- 
. selves witnessed a similar play of color. It was a glorious 
spectacle ; but the stomachs of all were empty and their 
bodies exhausted, and every wish of the heart turned toward 
a resting-place for the night ; but how could that be won? To © 
descry this resting-place all eyes were turned more eagerly to 
the road than toward the beauties of nature. 

The way now led through an olive wood; he could have 
fancied himself passing between knotty willow trunks at home. 
Here, by the solitary inn, a dozen crippled beggars had taken 
up their positions ; the quickest among them looked, to quote 
an expression of Marryat’s, like the eldest son of Famine, 
who had just come of age. ‘The others were either blind or 
had withered legs so that they crept about on their hands, or 
they had withered arms with fingerless hands. This was 
misery in rags indeed. ‘“ “ccellenza miserabili !” they sighed, 
and stretched forth their diseased limbs. The hostess herself, 
in untidy hair, and dressed in a dirty blouse, received her 
guests. The doors were tied up with string ; the floor of the 
room was of brick, and half of it was grubbed up; bats flew 
about under the roof, and the smell within — 

“ Yes, lay the table down in the stable,” said one of the 
travellers. “There, at least, one knows what one is breath- 
ing.” 


344 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


The windows were opened, so that a little fresh air might 
find its way in; but quicker than the air came the withered 
arms and the continual whining, “ A@serabili Eccellenza /” 
On the walls were many inscriptions; half of them were 
spiteful toward “ La bella Ltalia.” 

The supper was served. It consisted of a watery soup, 
seasoned with pepper and rancid oil. This last dainty played 
a chief part in the salad ; musty eggs and roasted cocks’- 
combs were the best dishes. Even the wine had a strange 
taste —it was a dreadful mixture. 

At night the boxes were placed against the doors. One of 
the travellers kept watch while the rest slept. The Theologian 
was the sentry. O, how close it was in there! ‘The heat 
oppressed him, the gnats buzzed and stung, and the mzserabil 
outside moaned in their dreams. oy 

“Yes, travelling would be all very well,” said the Theologian, 
“if one had no body. If the body could rest, and the mind 
fly! Wherever I go, I find a want that oppresses my heart ; 
it is something better than the present moment that I desire. 
‘Yes, something better —the best; but what is that, and 
where is it? In my own heart I know very well what I want; 
I want to attain to a happy goal, the happiest of all.” . 

And so soon as the word was spoken he found himself at 
home. The long white curtains hung down from the windows, 
and in the middle of the room stood a black coffin: in this 
he was lying in the quiet sleep of death ; his wish was fulfilled 
—— his body was at rest, and his spirit roaming. “ Esteem no 
man happy who is not yet in his grave,” were the words of 
Solon ; here their force was proved anew. 

Every corpse is a sphinx of immortality: the sphinx here 
also, in the black sarcophagus, answered, what the living man 
had laid down two days before :— 

“Thou strong, stern Death! Thy siience waketh fear ; 
Thou leavest mould’ring grave-stones for thy traces. 
Shall not the soul see Jacob’s ladder here ? 
No resurrection type but church-yard grasses ? 
The deepest woes escape the world’s dull eye : 
Thou that alone on duty’s path hast sped, 


Heavier those duties on thy heart would lie 
Than lies the earth now on thy coffined head.” 


THE GALOSHES OF FORTUNE 345 


Two forms were moving to and fro in the room. We know 
them both. They were the Fairy of Care and the Ambassa- 
dress of Fortune. They bent down over the dead man. 

“Do you see?” said Care. “What happiness have your 
galoshes brought to men?”’ 

“They have, at least, brought a permanent benefit to him 
who slumbers here,” replied Fortune. 

“© no!” said Care. “He went away of himself, he was 
not summoned. His spirit was not strong enough to lift the 
treasures which he had been destined to lift. I will do hima 
favor.” ; 

And she drew the galoshes from his feet ; then the sleep 
of death was ended, and the awakened man raised himself up. 
Care vanished, and with her the galoshes disappeared too ; 
doubtless she looked upon them as her property. 


4 


346 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


TWELVE BY THE MAIL. 


T was bitterly cold ; the sky gleamed with stars, and nota 
breeze was stirring. 

Bump! an old pot was thrown at the neighbors’ house 
doors. Bang! bang! went the gun ; for they were welcoming 
the New Year. It was New Year’s Eve! The church clock 
was striking twelve ! 

Tan-ta-ra-ra! the mail came lumbering up. The great car- 
riage stopped at the gate of the town. ‘There were twelve 
persons in it; all the places were taken. 

“Hurrah! hurrah!” sang the people in the houses of the 
town, for the New Year was being welcomed, and as the clock: 
struck they stood up with filled glass in hand, to drink suc- 
cess to the new-comer. 

“ Happy New Year!” was the cry. “A pretty wife, plenty 
of money, and no sorrow or care!” q 

This wish was passed round, and then glasses were clashed 
together till they rang again, and in front of the town gate the 
post-carriage stopped with the strange guests, the twelve trav- 
ellers. 

And who were these strangers? Each of them .had his 
passport and his luggage with him: they even brought pres- 
ents for me and for you and for all the people of the little 
town. Who are they? What did they want? and what did 
they bring with them? 

“Good morning!” they cried to the Sentry at the town 
gate. 

“Good morning!” replied the Sentry, for the clock struck 
twelve. 

“Your name and profession?” the Sentry inquired of the 
one who alighted first from the carriage. 

“See yourself, in the passport,” replied the man. “I am 
myself!” And a capital fellow he looked, arrayed in a bear- 
skin and fur boots. “I am the man on whom many persons 
fix their hopes. Come to me to-morrow, and I’ll give you a 
New Year’s present. I throw pence and dollars among the 


IWHEIVE BY THE MAIL. 347 


people ; I even give balls, thirty-one balls ; but I cannot de- 
vote more than thirty-one nights to this. My ships are frozen 
in, but in my office it is warm and comfortable. I’m a mer- 
chant. My name is JANUARY, and I only carry accounts with 
me.” . 

Now the second alighted. He was a merry companion ; 
he was a theatre director, manager of the masque balls, and 
all the amusements one can imagine. His luggage consisted 
of a great tub. 

“We'll dance the cat out of the tub at carnival-time,” said 
he. “I'll preparea merry tune for you and for myself too. 
I have not a very long time to live —the shortest, in fact, of 
my whole family, for I only become twenty-eight days old. 
Sometimes they pop me in an extra day, but I trouble myself 
very little about that. Hurrah!” 

“You must not shout so,” said the Sentry. , 

“Certainly, I may shout!” retorted the man. “I’m 
Prince Carnival, travelling under the name of FEBRUARY !” 

The third now got out. He looked like Fasting itself, but 
carried his nose very high, for he was related to the “ Forty 
Knights,” and was a weather prophet. But that’s not a pro- 
fitable office, and that’s why he praised fasting. In his button- 
hole he had a little bunch of violets, but they were very small. 

“Marcu! Marcu!” the fourth called after him, and slapped 
him on the shoulder. “ Do you smell nothing? Go quickly 
into the guard-room ; there they’re drinking punch, your fa- 
vorite drink! I can smell it already out here. Forward, 
Master March!” 

But it was not true ; the speaker only wanted to let him feel 
the influence of his own name, and make an APRIL fool of 
him ; for with that the fourth began his career in the town. 
He looked very jovial, did little work, but had the more holli- 
_ days. 

“Tf it were only a little more steady in the world 
he ; “ but sometimes one is in a good humor, sometimes in a 
bad one, according to circumstances ; now rain, now sunshine. 
I am a kind of house and office-letting agent, also a manager 
of funerals. I can laugh or cry, according to circumstances. 
Here in this box I have my summer wardrobe, but it would 


Meee! 


said 


348 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


be very foolish to put iton. Here I amnow! On Sundays I 
go out walking in shoes and silk stockings, and with a muff!” 

After him, a lady came out of the carriage. She called her- 
self Miss May. She wore a summer costume and overshoes, 
a light green dress, and anemones in her hair, and she was 
so scented with wild thyme that the Sentry had to sneeze. 

“God bless you!” she said, and that was her salutation. 

How pretty she was ! and she was a singer — not a theatre 
nor a ballad singer, but a singer of the woods, for she roamed 
through the gay green forest, and sang there for her own 
amusement. 

“Now comes the young dame!” said those in the carriage. 

And the young dame stepped out, delicate, proud, and 
pretty. It was easy to see that she was Mistress JUNE, accus- 
tomed to be served by drowsy marmots. She gave a great 
feast on the longest day of the year, that the guests might 
have time to partake of the many dishes at her table. She, 
indeed, kept her own carriage ; but still she travelled in the 
mail with the rest, because she wanted to show that she was 
not high-minded. But she was not without protection ; her 
elder brother JULY was with her. 

He was a plump young fellow, clad in summer garments, 
and with a Panama hat. He had but little baggage with him, 
because it,was cumbersome in the great heat ; therefore he 
had only provided himself with swimming trousers, and those 
are not much. 

Then came the mother herself, Madam Avucust, whole- 
sale dealer in fruit, proprietress of a large number of fish-ponds, 
and land cultivator, in a great crinoline ; she was fat and hot, 
could use her hands well, and would herself carry out beer to 
the workmen in the fields. 

“In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread’” said she: 
“ that is written in the Boos. Afterward come the excur- 
sions, dance, and playing in the greenwood, and the harvest 
feasts!” 

She was a thorough housewife. 

After her a man came out of the coach, a painter, Mr. Mas- 
ter-colorer SEPTEMBER. ‘The forest had to receive him ; the 
leaves were to change their colors, but how beautifully ! when 


LURE VOLE: MALL. 349 


he wished it; soon the wood gleamed with red, yellow, and 
brown. ‘The master whistled like the black magpie, was a 
quick workman, and wound the brown green hop-plants round 
his beer-jug. ‘That was an ornament for the jug, and he had 
a good idea of ornament. ‘There he stood with his color-pot, 
and that was his whole luggage. 

A landed proprietor followed him, one who cared for the 
ploughing and preparing of the land, and also for field sports. 
Squire OCTUBER brought his dog and his gun with him, and 
nuts in his game-bag. “ Crack! crack!” He had much bag- 
gage, even an English plough; and he spoke of farming, but 
one could scarcely hear what he said, for the coughing and 
gasping of his neighbor. 

It was NOVEMBER who coughed so violently as he got out. 
He was very much plagued by a cold; he was continually 
having recourse to his pocket-handkerchief, and yet, he said, 
he was obliged to accompany the servant girls, and initiate 
them into their new winter service. He said he should get rid 
of his cold when he went out wood-cutting, and had to saw 
and split wood, for he was sawyer-master to the firewood guild. 
He spent his evenings cutting the wooden soles for skates, 
for he knew, he said, that in a few weeks there would be occa- 
sion to use these amusing shoes. 

At length appeared the last passenger, old Mother DEcEm- 
BER, with her fire-stool. The old lady was cold, but her eyes 
glistened like two bright stars. She carried on her arm a 
flower-pot, in which a little fir-tree was growing. 

“ This tree I will guard and cherish, that it may grow large 
by Christmas Eve, and may reach from the ground to the ceil- 
ing, and may rear itself upward with. flaming candles, golden 
apples, and little carved figures. The fire-stool warms like a 
stove. I bring the story-book out of my pocket and read 
aloud, so that all the children in the room become quite 
quiet ; but the little figures on the trees become lively, and 
the little waxen angel on the top spreads out his wings of 
gold leaf, flles down from his green perch, and kisses great 
and small in the room, yes, even the poor children who stand 
out in the passage and in the street, singing the carol about 
the Star of Bethlehem.” 


* 


350 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


“Well, now the coach may drive away!” said the Sentry ; 
“we have the whole twelve. Let the chaise drive up.” 

“ First let all the twelve come in to me,” said the Captain 
on duty, “one after the other. The passports I will keep 
here. Each of them is available for a month ; when that has 
passed, I shall write their behavior on each passport. Mr. 
January, have the goodness to come here.” 

And Mr. January stepped forward. 

When a year is passed I think I shall be able to tell you 
what the twelve have brought to me, and to you, and to all of 
us. Now I do not know it, and they don’t know it them- 
selves, probably, for we live in strange times. 


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THE GARDEN OF PARADISE. 


NCE there was a King’s son. No one had*so many and 

so beautiful books as he; everything that had hap- 

pened in this world he could read there, and could see pictures 

of it all in lovely copper-plates. Of every people, and of 

every land he could get intelligence ; but there was not a word 

to tell where the Garden of Paradise could be found, and it 
was just that of which he thought most. 

His grandmother had told him, when he was quite little, 
but was to begin to go to school, that every flower in this 
Paradise Garden was a delicate cake, and the pistils contained 
the choicest wine ; on one of the flowers history was written, 
and on another geography or tables, so that one had only to 
eat cake, and one knew a lesson ; and the more one ate, the 
more history, geography, or tables did one learn. 

At that time he believed this. But when he became a 
bigger boy, and learned more and became wiser, he under- 
stood well that the splendor in the Garden of Paradise must 
be of quite a different kind. 

“O, why did Eve pluck from the Tree of Knowledge? 


352 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


Why did Adam eat the forbidden fruit? If I had been he, it 
would never have happened— then sin would never have 
come into the world.” 

That he said then, and he still said it when he was sev- 
enteen years old. The Garden of Paradise filled all his 
thoughts. 

One day he ‘walked in the wood. He was walking quite 
alone, for that was his greatest pleasure. The evening came, 
and the clouds gathered together; rain streamed down as if 
the sky were one single river from which the water was pour- 
ing ; it was dark as it usually is at night in the deepest well. 
Often he slipped on the smooth grass, often he fell over the 
smooth stones which peered up out of the wet, rocky ground. 
Everything was soaked with water, and there was not a dry 
thread on the poor Prince. He was obliged to climb over 
great blocks of stone, where the water spurted from the thick 
moss. He was nearly fainting. ‘Then he heard a strange 
rushing, and saw before him a great illuminated cave. In the 
midst of it burned a fire, so large that a stag might have been 
roasted at it. And this was in fact being done. A glorious 
deer had been stuck, horns and all, upon a spit, and was turn- 
ing slowly between two felled pine trunks. An elderly woman, 
large and strongly built, looking like a disguised’ man, sat by 
the fire, into which she threw one piece of wood after another. 

“Come nearer!” said she. “Sit down by the fire and dry 
your clothes.” 

“ There’s a great draught here!” said the Prince; and he 
sat down on the ground. 

“That will be worse when my sons come home,” replied 
the Woman. ‘“ You are here in the Cavern of the Winds, and 
my sons are the four Winds of the world ; can you understand 
that? t 

‘Where are your sons?” asked the Prince. 

‘Tt is difficult to answer when stupid questions are asked,” 
said the Woman. “ My sons do business on their own account. 
They play at shuttlecock with the clouds up yonder in the 
King’s hall.” 

And she pointed upwards. 

“QO, indeed!” said the Prince. “But you speak rather 


o) 


THE GARDEN OF PARADISE. 353 


grufily, by the way, and are not so mild as the women I gen- 
erally see about me.” 

“Yes, they have most likely nothing else to do! I must be 
hard, if I want to keep my sons in order ; but I can do it, 
though they are obstinate fellows. Do you see the four sacks 
hanging there by the wall? They are just as frightened of 
those as you used to be of the rod stuck behind the glass. I 
can bend the lads together, I tell you, and then I pop them 
into the bag; we don’t make any ceremony. There they sit, 
and may not wander about again until I think fit to allow 
them. But here comes one of them.” 

It was the North Wind, who rushed in with piercing cold ; 
great hailstones skipped about on the floor, and snow-flakes 
fluttered about. He was dressed in a jacket and trousers of 
bear-skin ; a cap of seal-skin was drawn down over his ears ; 
long icicles hung on his beard, and one hailstone after an- 
other rolled from the collar of his jacket. 

“ Do not go so near the fire directly,” said the Prince ; “you 
might get your hands and face frost-bitten.” 

“ Frost-bitten ?” repeated the North Wind, and he laughed 
aloud. “Cold is exactly what rejoices me most! But what 
kind of little tailor art thou? How did you find your way into 
the Cavern of the Winds?” 

“He is my guest,” interposed the old Woman, “ and if you’re 
not satisfied with this explanation you may go into the sack ; 
do you understand me?” 

You see that was the right way ; and nowthe North Wind 
told whence he came, and where he had been for almost a 
month. 

“T came from the Polar Sea,” said he ; “I have been in the 
bear’s icy land with the walrus hunters. I sat and slept on 
the helm when they went away from the North Cape, and 
when I awoke, now and then, the storm-bird flew round my 
legs. That’s a comical bird! He gives a sharp clap with his 
wings, and then holds them quite still and shoots along’ in full 
eateer.” | 

“Don’t be too long-winded,” said the Mother of the Winds. 
“And so you came to the Bear’s Island?” 

“Tt is very beautiful there. There’s a floor for dancing 

23 


354 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


on as flat as a plate. Halfthawed snow, with a little moss, 
sharp stones, and skeletons of walruses and polar bears lay 
around, and likewise gigantic arms and legs of a rusty green 
color. One would have thought the sun had never shone there. 
I blew a little upon the mist, so that one could see the hut ; it 
was a house built of wreck-wood and covered with walrus- 
skins —the fleshy side turned outwards. It was full of green 
and red, and on the roof sat a live polar bear who was growl- 
ing. I went to the shore to look after birds’-nests, and saw 
the unfledged nestlings screaming and opening their beaks ; 
then I blew down into their thousand throats, and taught them 
to shut their mouths. Farther on the huge walruses were 
splashing like great maggots with pigs’ heads, and teeth an 
ell long!” 

“You tell your story well, my son,” said the old Lady. “My 
mouth waters when I hear you !” 

“Then the hunting began! The harpoon was hurled into 
the walrus’s breast, so that a smoking stream of blood spurted 
like a fountain over the ice. When I thought of my sport, I ° 
blew, and let my sailing ships, the big icebergs, crush the 
boats between them. O, how the people whistled and how 
they cried! but I whistled louder than they. They were 
obliged to throw the dead walruses and their chests and 
tackle out upon the ice. J shook the snow-flakes over them, 
and let them drive south in their crushed boats with their 
booty to taste salt water. They’ll never come to Bear’s Island 
again!” 

“Then you have done a wicked thing!” said the Mother of 
the Winds. | ; 

“What good I have done others may tell,” replied he. “ But 
here comes a brother from the west. I like him best of all: 
he tastes of the sea and brings a delicious coolness with him.” 

“Is that little Zephyr ?”’ asked the Prince. 

“Yes, certainly, that is Zephyr,” replied the old Woman. 
“But he is not little. Years ago he was a pretty boy, but 
that’s past now.” 

He looked like a wild man, but he had a broad-brimmed 
hat on, to save his face. In his hand he held a club of ma- 
hogany, hewn in the American mahogany forests. It was no 
trifle. 


THE GARDEN OF PARADISE. 355 


“Where do you come from?” said his mother. 

“Out of the forest wilderness,” said he, ‘where the water- 
snake lies in the wet grass, and people don’t seem to be © 
wanted.” 

“What were you doing there?”’ 

“I looked into the deepest river, and watched how it rushed 
down from the rocks, and turned to spray, and shot up to- 
ward the clouds to carry the rainbow. I saw the wild buffalo 
swimming in the stream, but the stream carried him away. 
He drifted with the flock of wild ducks that flew up where the 
water fell down ina cataract. The buffalo had to go down 
it! That pleased me, and I blew a storm, so that ancient 
trees were split up into splinters! ” 

“ And have you done nothing else?” asked the old Dame. 

“TY have thrown somersaults in the Savannahs: I have 
stroked the wild horses and shaken the cocoa-nut palms. 
Yes, yes, I have stories to tell! But one must not tell all one 
knows. You know that, old Lady.” 

And he kissed his mother so roughly that she almost tum- 
bled over. He was a terribly wild young fellow! 

Now came the South Wind, with a turban on and a flying 
Bedouin’s cloak. 

“It’s terribly cold out here!” cried he, and threw some 
more wood on the fire. “One can feel that the North Wind 
came first.” 

“It’s so hot that one could roast a Polar bear here,” said 
the North Wind. 

“You're a Polar bear yourself,” retorted the South Wind. 

“Do you want to be put in the sack?” asked the old Dame. 
‘Sit upon the stone yonder and tell me where you have 
been.” 

“In Africa, mother,” he answered. ‘I was out hunting the 
lion with the Hottentots in the land of the Kaffirs. Grass 
grows there in the plains, green as an olive. ‘There the os- 
trich ran races with me, but I am swifter than he. I came 
into the desert where the yellow sand lies: it looks there like 
the bottom of the sea. I met a caravan. The people were 
killing their last camel to get water to drink, but it was very 
little they got. The sun burned above and the sand below. 


356 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


The outspread deserts had no bounds. Then I rolled in the 
fine loose sand, and whirled it up in great pillars. That was 
a dance! You should have seen how the dromedary stood 
there terrified, and the merchant drew the caftan over his 
head. He threw himself down before me, as before Allah, 
his God. Now they are buried — a pyramid of sand covers 
them all. When I some day blow that away, the sun will 
bleach the white bones ; then travellers-may see that men 
have been there before them. Otherwise, one would not be- 
lieve that, in the desert! ” 

“So you have done nothing but evil! ” exclaimed the Moth- 
er. ‘ March into the sack!” 

And before he was aware, she had seized the South Wind 
round the body, and popped him into the bag. He rollee 
about on the floor ; but she sat down on the sack, and ther 
he had to keep quiet. 

“Those are lively boys of yours,” said the Prince. 

“Ves,” she replied, “and I know how to punish them! 
Here comes the fourth!” 

That was the East Wind, who came dressed hke a China- 
man. 

““O! do you come from that region?” said his mother. “I 
thought you had been in the Garden of Paradise.” 

“I don’t fly there till to-morrow,” said the East Wind. “It 
will be a hundred years to-morrow since I was there. I come 
from China now, where I danced around the porcelain tower 
till all the bells jingled again! In the streets the officials 
were being thrashed: the bamboos were broken upon their 
shoulders, yet they were high people, from the first to the 
ninth grade. They cried, ‘Many thanks, my paternal bene- 
factor !’ but it did not come from their hearts. And I rang 
the bells and sang ‘ Tsing, tsang, tsu!’” i 

“You are foolish,” said the old Dame. “It is a good thing 
that you are going into the Garden of Paradise to-morrow: 
that always helps on your education. Drink bravely out of 
the spring of wisdom, and bring home a little bottleful for 
mes | 

“That I will do,” said the East Wind. “ But why have you | 
clapped my brother South in the bag? Out with him! He 


THE GARDEN OF PARADISE. 357 


shall tell me about the Phoenix bird, for about that bird the 
Princess in the Garden of Paradise always wants to hear, 
when I pay my visit every hundredth year. Open the sack, 
then you shall be my sweetest of mothers, and I will give you 
two pocketsful of tea, green and fresh as I plucked it at the 
place where it grew!” 

“Well, for the sake of the tea, and because you are my 
darling boy, I will open the sack.” 

She did so, and the South Wind crept out; but he looked 
quite downcast, because the strange Prince had seen his dis- 
grace. 

“There you have a palm-leaf for the Princess,” said the 
South Wind. “This palm-leaf was given me by the Phoenix 
bird, the only one who is in the world. With his beak he has 
scratched upon it a description of all the hundred years he 
has lived. Now she may read herself how the Phoenix bird 
set fire to her nest, and sat upon it, and was burned to death 
like a Hindoo’s widow. How the dry branches crackled ! 
What a smoke and a steam there was! At last everything 
burst into flame, and the old Phoenix turned to ashes, but her 
egg lay red-hot in the fire ; it burst with a great bang, and 
the young one flew out. Now this young one is ruler over all 
the birds, and the only Pheenix in the world. It has bitten a 
hole in the palm-leaf I have given you. ‘That is a greeting to 
the Princess.” 

“Let us have something to eat,” said the Mother of the 
Winds. 

And now they all sat down to eat of the roasted deer. The 
Prince sat beside the East Wind, and they soon became good 
friends. 

“Just tell me,” said the Prince, “what Princess is that 
about whom there is so much talk here? and where does the 
Garden of Paradise lie?” 

“Ho, ho!” said the East Wind, “do you want to go there? 
Well, then, fly to-morrow with me! But I must tell you, how- 
ever, that no man has been there since the time of Adam and 
Eve. You have read of them in your Bible histories ? ” 

(Ves, said ‘the Prince. | 

“When they were driven away, the Garden of Paradise 


358 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


sank into the earth ; but it kept its warm sunshine, its mild 
air, and all its splendor. The Queenof the Fairies lives 
there, and there lies the Island of Happiness, where death 
never comes, and where it is beautiful. Sit upon my back 
to-morrow, and I will take you with me ; I think it can very 
well be done. But now leave off talking, for I want to sleep.” 

And then they all went to rest. 

In the early morning the Prince awoke, and was not a little 
astonished to find himself high above the clouds. He was 
sitting on the back of the East Wind, who was faithfully hold- 
ing him; they were so high in the air, that the woods and 
fields, rivers and lakes, looked as if they were painted on a 
map below them. 

“ Good morning!” said the East Wind. ‘ You might very 
well sleep a httle longer, for there is not much to be seen on 
the flat country under us, unless you care to countthe churches. - 
They stand like dots of chalk on the green carpet.” 

What he called green carpet was field and meadow. 

“Tt was rude of me not to say good-by to your mother 
and your brothers,” said the Prince. 

“When one is asleep, one must be excused,” rephed th 

vast Wind. 

And then they flew on faster than ever. One could hear 
them in the tops of the trees, for when they passed over them 
the leaves and twigs rustled ; one could hear them on the sea 
and on the lakes, for when they flew by the water rose higher, 
and the great ships bowed themselves toward the water like 
swimming swans. , 

Toward evening, when it became dark, the great towns 
looked charming, for lights were burning below, here and 
there ; it was just as when one has lighted a piece of paper, 
and sees all the httle sparks which vanish one after another. 
And the Prince clapped his hands ; but the East Wind begged 
him to let that be, and rather to hold fast, otherwise he might 
easily fall down and get caught on a church spire. 

The eagle in the dark woods flew lightly, but the East Wind 
flew more lightly still. The Cossack on his little horse 
skimmed swiftly over the surface of the earth, but the Prince 
skimmed more swiftly still. 


THE GARDEN OF PARADISE. 359 


“ Now you can see the Himalayas,” said the East Wind. 
“That is the highest mountain range in Asia. Now we shall 
soon get to the Garden of Paradise.” 

Then they turned more to the south. and soon the air was 
fragrant with flowers and spices ; figs and pomegranates grew 
wild, and the wild vine bore clusters of red and purple grapes.. 
Here both alighted, and stretched themselves on the soft 
grass, where the flowers nodded to the wind, as though they 
would have said, “ Welcome!” 

“Are we now in the Garden of Paradise?” asked the 
Prince. : 

“Not at all,” replied the East Wind. ‘ But we shall soon 
get there. Do you see the rocky wall yonder, and the great 
cave, where the vines cluster like a broad green curtain ? 
Through that we shall pass. Wrap yourself in your cloak. 
Here the sun scorches you, but a step farther it will be icy 
cold. The bird which hovers past the cave has one wing in 
the region of summer, and the other in the wintry cold.” 

“So this is the way to the Garden of Paradise?” observed 
the Prince. 

They went into the cave. Ugh! but it was icy cold there, 
but this did not last long. The East Wind spread out his 
wings, and they gleamed like the brightest fire. What a cave 
was that! Great blocks of stone, from which the water 
dripped down, hung over them in the strangest shapes ; some- 
times it was so narrow that they had to creep on their hands 
and knees, sometimes as lofty and broad as in the open air. 
The place looked like a number of mortuary chapels, with 
dumb organ pipes, the organs themselves being petrified. 

“ We are going through the way of death to the Garden of 
Paradise, are we not?” inquired the Prince. 

The East Wind answered not a syllable, but he pointed for- 
ward to where a lovely blue light gleamed upon them. ‘The 
stone blocks over their heads became more and more like 
a mist, and at last looked like a white cloud in the moonlight. 
Now they were in a deliciously mild air, fresh as on the hills, 
fragrant as among the roses of the valley. There ran a river 
clear as the air itself, and the fishes were like silver and gold : 
purple eels, flashing out blue sparks at every moment, played 


360 ANDERSEN'S WONDER STORIES. 


in the water below; and the broad water-plant leaves shone 
in the colors of the rainbow ; the flower itself was an orange- 
colored burning flame, to which the water gave nourishment, 
as the oil to the burning lamp ; a bridge of marble, strong, 
indeed, but so lightly built that it looked as if made of lace 
and glass beads, led them across the water to the Island of 
Happiness, where the Garden of Paradise bloomed. — ' 

Were they palm-trees that grew here,-or gigantic water- 
plants? Such verdant, mighty trees the Prince had never be- 
held ; the most wonderful climbing plants hung there in long 
festoons, as one only sees them illuminated in gold and colors 
on the margins of gold missal-books, or twined among the 
initial letters. Here were the strangest groupings of birds, 
flowers, and twining lines. Close by, in the grass, stood a 
flock of peacocks, with their shining, starry trains outspread. 

Yes, it was really so! But when the Prince touched these, 
he found they were not birds, but plants ; they were great bur- 
docks, which shone like the peacock’s gorgeous train. The. 
lion and the tiger sprang to and fro like agile cats among the 
green bushes, which were fragrant as the blossom of the olive- 
tree ; and the lion and the tiger were tame. The wild wood- 
pigeon shone like the most beautiful pearl, and beat her wings 
against the lion’s mane; and the antelope, usually so timid, 
stood by, nodding its head, as if it wished to play too. 

Now came the Fairy of Paradise. Her garb shone hike the 
sun, and her countenance was cheerful like that of a happy 
mother when she is well pleased with her child. She was 
young and beautiful, and was followed by a number of pretty 
maidens, each with a gleaming star in her hair. The East 
Wind gave her the written leaf from the Phoenix bird, and her 
eyes shone with pleasure. 

She took the Prince by the hand and led him into her pal- 
ace, where the walls had the color of a splendid tulip-leaf 
when it is held up in the sunlight. The ceiling was a great 
sparkling flower, and the more one looked up at it, the deeper 
did its cup appear. The Prince stepped to the window and 
looked through one of the panes. Here he saw the Tree of 
Knowledge, with the serpent, and Adam and Eve were stand- 
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THE GARDEN OF PARADISE. 363 


“Were they not driven out?” he asked. 

And the Fairy smiled, and explained to him that Time had 
burned in the picture upon that pane, but not as people are 
accustomed to see pictures. No, there was life in it; the 
leaves of the trees moved, men came and went as in a dis- 
solving view. And he looked through another pane, and 
there was Jacob’s dream, with the ladder reaching up into 
heaven, and the angels with great wings were ascending and 
descending. Yes, everything that had happened in the world 
lived and moved in the glass panes ; such cunning pictures 
only Time could burn in. 

The Fairy smiled, and led him into a great lofty hall, whose 
walls appeared transparent. Here were portraits, and each 
face looked fairer than the last. There were to be seen mil- 
lions of happy ones who smiled and sang, so that it flowed 
together into a melody; the uppermost were so small that 
they looked like the smallest rose-bud when it is drawn asa 
point upon paper. And in the midst of the hall stood a great 
tree with rich, pendent boughs: golden apples, great and small, 
hung like oranges among the leaves. That was the Tree of 
Knowledge, of whose fruit Adam and Eve had eaten. From 
each leaf fell a shining red dew-drop ; it was as though the 
tree wept tears of blood. 

“Let us now get into the boat,” said the Fairy ; “ then we 
will enjoy some refreshment on the heaving waters. The 
boat rocks, yet does not quit its station ; but all the lands of 
the earth will glide past in our sight.” 

And it was wonderful to behold how the whole coast 
moved. ‘There came the lofty snow-covered Alps, with clouds 
and black pine-trees ; the horn sounded with its melancholy 
note, and the shepherd trolled his merry song in the valley. 
Then the banana-trees bent their long, hanging branches over 
the boat; coal-black swans swam on the water, and the 
strangest animals and flowers showed themselves upon the 
shore. ‘That was New Holland, the fifth great division of the 
world, which glided past with a background of blue hills. 
They heard the song of the priests, and saw the savages 
dancing to the sound of drums and of bone trumpets. Egypt’s 
pyramids, towering aloft to the clouds ; overturned pillars and 


364 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


sphinxes, half buried in the sand, — sailed past likewise. The 
northern lights shone over the extinct volcanoes of the Pole 
— it was a fire-work that no one could imitate. The Prince 
was quite happy, and he saw a hundred times more than 
we can relate here. | 

“And can I always stay here?” asked he. 

“That depends upon yourself,” answered the Fairy. “If 
you do not, like Adam, yield to the temptation to do what is 
forbidden, you may always remain here.” 

‘“‘T shall not touch the apples on the Tree of Knowledge!” 
said the Prince. “Here are thousands of fruits just as 
beautiful as those.” 

“Search your own heart, and if you are not strong enough, 
go away with the East Wind that brought you hither. He is 
going to fly back, and will not show himself here again for a 
hundred years : the time will pass for you in this place as if it 
were a hundred hours, but it is a long time for the temptation 
of sin. Every evening, when I leave you, I shall have to call 
to you, ‘Come with me!’ and I shall have to beckon to you 
with my hand ; but stay where you are: do not go with me, 
or your longing will become greater with every step. You 
will then come into the hall where the Tree of Knowledge 
grows ; I sleep under its fragrant, pendent boughs ; you will 
bend over me, and I must smile ; but if you press a kiss upon 
my mouth, the Paradise will sink deep into the earth and be 
lost to you. The keen wind of the desert will rush around 
you, the cold rain drop upon your head, and sorrow and woe 
will be your portion.” 

“T shall stay here!” said the Prince. 

And the East Wind kissed him on the forehead, and said, — 

“Be strong, and we shall meet here again in a hundred 
years. Farewell! farewell!” 

And the East Wind spread out his broad wings, and they 
flashed like sheet lightning in harvest-time, or like the north- 
ern light in the cold winter. 

“ Farewell! farewell!” sounded from among the flowers 
and the trees. Storks and pelicans flew away in rows like 
fluttering ribbons, and bore him company to the boundary of 
the garden. 


THE GARDEN OF PARADISE. 365 


“Now we will begin our dances!” cried the Fairy. “ At 
the end, when I dance with you, when the sun goes down, 
you will see me beckon to you ; you will hear me call to you, 
‘Come with me ;’ but do not obey. For a hundred years I 
must repeat this every evening ; every time, when the trial is 
past, you will gain more strength; at last you will not think 
of it at all. This evening is the first time. Now I have 
warned you.” 

And the Fairy led him into a great hall of white transpa- 
rent lilies: the yellow stamens in each flower formed a little 
golden harp, which sounded like stringed instrument and 
flute. ‘The most beautiful maidens, floating and slender, clad 
in gauzy mist, glided by in the dance, and sang of the happi- 
ness of living, and declared that they would never die, and 
that the Garden of Paradise would bloom forever. 

And the sun went down. The whole sky shone like gold, 
which gave to the lilies the hue of the most glorious roses ; 
and the Prince drank of the foaming wine which the maidens 
poured out for him, and felt a happiness he had never before 
known. He saw how the background of the hall opened, and 
the Tree of Knowledge stood in a glory which blinded his 
eyes ; the singing there was soft and lovely as the voice of his 
dear mother, and it was as though she sang, “ My child! my 
beloved child !” 

Then the Fairy beckoned to him, and called out persua- 
sively, — 

“ Come with me! come with me!” 

And he rushed toward her, forgetting his promise, — forget- 
ting it the very first evening; and still she beckoned and 
smiled. ‘The fragrance, the delicious fragrance around be- 
came stronger, the harps sounded far more lovely, and it 
seemed as though the millions of smiling heads in the hall, 
where the Tree grew, nodded and sang, “One must know 
everything — man is the lord of the earth.” And they were 
no longer drops of blood that the Tree of Knowledge wept ; 
they were red, shining stars which he seemed to see. 

“Come! come!” the quivering voice still cried, and at 
every step the Prince’s cheeks burned more hotly and _ his 
‘blood flowed more rapidly. 


366 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


“T must!” said he. “It is no sin; it cannot be one. Why 
not follow beauty and joy? I only want to see her asleep ; 
there will be nothing lost if I only refrain from kissing her: 
and I will not kiss her; I am strong and have a resolute 
will !” 

And the Fairy threw off her shining cloak and bent back 
the branches, and in another moment she was hidden among 
them. 

“T have not yet sinned,” said the Prince, “ and I will not.” 

And he pushed the boughs aside. ‘There she slept already, 
beautiful as only a fairy in the Garden of Paradise can be. 
She smiled in her dreams, and he bent over her, and saw 
tears quivering beneath her eyelids! 

“Do you weep for me?” he whispered. ‘Weep not, thou 
glorious woman! Now only I understand the bliss of Para- 
dise! It streams through my blood, through my thoughts ; 
the power of the angel and of increasing life I feel in my 
mortal body! Let what will happen to me now; one moment 
like this is wealth enough !” 

And he kissed the tears from her eyes — his mouth touched 
hers. 

Then there resounded a clap of thunder so loud and 
dreadful that no one had ever heard the like, and everything 
fell down ; and the beautiful Fairy and the charming Para- 
dise sank down, deeper and deeper. The Prince saw it van- 
ish into the black night; like a little bright star it gleamed 
out of the far distance. A deadly chill ran through his 
frame, and he closed his eyes, and lay for a long time as one 
dead. 

The cold rain fell upon his face, the keen wind roared 
round his head, and then his senses returned to him. 

“What have I done?” he sighed. “I have sinned like 
Adam — sinned so that Paradise has sunk deep down!” 

And he opened his eyes, and the star in the distance — the 
star that gleamed like the Paradise that had sunk down, was 
the morning-star in the sky. 

He stood up, and found himself in the great forest, close 
by the Cave of the Winds, and the Mother of the Winds sat 
by his side: she looked angry, and raised her arm in the air. 


THE GARDEN OF PARADISE. 367 


“The very first evening!” said she. “I thought it would 
be so! Yes, if you were my son, you would have to go into 
the sack!” 

“Ves, he shall go in there!” said Death. He was a strong 
old man, with a scythe in his hand, and with great black 
wings. ‘ Yes, he shall be laid in his coffin, but not yet: I 
only register him, and let him wander awhile in the world 
to expiate his sins and to grow better. But one day I shall 
come. When he least expects it, I shall clap him in the 
black coffin, put him on my head, and fly up toward the star. 
There, too, blooms the garden of Paradise ; and if he is good 
and pious he will go in there; but if his thoughts are evil, 
and his heart still full of sin, he will sink with his coffin 
deeper than Paradise has sunk, and only every thousandth 
year I shall fetch him, that he may sink deeper, or that he 
may attain to the star — the shining star up yonder!” 


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THE CONSTANT TIN SOLDIER. 


HERE were once five-and-twenty tin soldiers ; they were 
all brothers, for they had all been born of one old tin 
spoon. ‘They shouldered their muskets, and looked straight 
before them ; their uniform was red and blue, and very splen- 
did. ‘The first thing they had heard in the world, when the 
lid was taken off their box, had been the words “Tin soldiers!” 
These words were uttered by a little boy, clapping his hands ; 
the soldiers had been given to him, for it was his birthday ; 
and now he put them upon the table. Each soldier was 
exactly like the rest; but one of them had been cast last of 
all, and there had not been enough tin to finish him ; but he 
stood as firmly upon his one leg as the others on their two ; 
and it was just this soldier who became remarkable. 

On the table on which they had been placed stood many 
other playthings, but the toy that attracted most attention 
was a neat castle of card-board. Through the little windows 
one could see straight into the hall. Before the castle some 
little trees were placed round a little looking-glass, which was 


THE CONSTANT TIN SOLDIER. 369. 


to represent a clear lake. Waxen swans swam on this lake, 
and were mirrored in it. This was all very pretty ; but the 
prettiest of all was a little lady, who stood at the open door 
of the castle ; she was also cut out in paper, but she had a 
dress of the clearest gauze, and a little narrow blue ribbon 
over her shoulders, that looked like a scarf; and in the mid- 
dle of this ribbon was a shining tinsel rose, as big as her 
whole face. ‘The little Lady stretched out both her arms, for 
she was a dancer, and then she lifted one leg so high that the 
Tin Soldier could not see it at all, and thought het like him- 
self, she had but one leg. 

“That would be the wife for me,” thought he ; “ but she is 
very grand. She lives in a castle, and I have only a box, and 
there are five-and-twenty of us in that. It is no place for her. 
But I must try to make acquaintance with her.” 

And then he lay down at full length behind a snuff-box 
which was on the table ; there he could easily watch the little 
dainty lady, who Peatinued to stand on one leg without losing 
her balance. 

When the evening came, all the other tin soldiers were put 
into their box, and the people in the house went to bed. Now 
the toys began to play at “visiting,” and at “war,” and “giv- 
ing balls.” The tin soldiers rattled in their box, for they 
wanted to join, but could not lift the lid. The Nut-cracker 
threw somersaults, and the Pencil amused itself on the table ; 
there was so much noise that the Canary woke up, and began 
to speak too, and even in verse. ‘The only two who did not 
stir from their places were the Tin Soldier and the Dancing 
Lady ; she stood straight up on the point of one of her toes, 
and stretched out both her arms: and he was just as enduring 
on his one leg ; and he never turned his eyes away from her. 

Now the clock struck twelve — and, bounce ! — the lid flew 
off the snuff-box; but there was not snuff in it, but alittle 
black goblin ; you see, it was a trick. 

pein ooldier,” paid the Goblin, “don’t stare at things that 
don’t concern you.” 

But the Tin Soldier pretended not to hear mre 

“Just you wait till to-morrow !” said the Goblin. 

But when the morning came, and the children got up, the 

24 | 


370 A.VDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


Tin Soldier was placed in the window ; and whether it was 
the Goblin or the draught that did it, all at once the window 
flew open, and the Soldier fell, head over heels, out of the 
third story. ‘That was a terrible passage! He put his leg 
straight up, and struck with his helmet downward, and his 
bayonet between the paving-stones. 

The servant-maid and the little boy came. down directly to 
look for him, but though they almost trod upon him they 
could not see him. If the Soldier had cried out, ‘ Here I 
am!” they would have found him; but he did not think it 
fitting to call out loudly, because he was in uniform. 

Now it began to rain; the drops soon fell thicker, and at 
last it came down in a complete stream. When the rain was 
past, two street boys came by. 

“Just look!” said one of them, “there lies a tin soldier. 
He must come out and ride in the boat,” 

And they made a boat out of a newspaper, and put the Tin 
Soldier in the middle of it ; and so he sailed down the gutter, 
and the two boys ran beside him and clapped their hands. 
Goodness preserve us! how the waves rose in that gutter, and 
how fast the stream ran! But then it had been a heavy rain. 
The paper boat rocked: up and down, and sometimes turned 
round so rapidly that the Tin Soldier trembled ; but he re- 
mained firm, and never changed countenance, and looked 
straight before him, and shouldered his musket. 

All at once the boat went into a long drain, and it became 
as dark as if he had been in his box. 

“Where am I going now?” he thought. “Yes, yes, that’s 
the Goblin’s fault. Ah! if the little Lady only sat here with 
me in the boat, it might be twice as dark for what I should 
care.”’ 

Suddenly there came a great water-rat, which lived under 
the drain. 

“Have you a passport?” said the Rat. ‘Give me your 
passport.” 

But the Tin Soldier kept silence, and only held his musket 
tighter than ever. 

The boat went on, but the Rat came after it. Hu! how he 
gnashed his teeth, and called out to the bits of straw and 
wood, — 


THE CONSTANT TIN SOLDIER. 371 


“ Hold him! hold him! he hasn’t paid toll—he hasn’t 
shown his passport!” 

But the stream became stronger and stronger. The Tin 
Soldier could see the bright daylight where the arch ended ; 
but he heard a roaring noise, which might well frighten a 
bolder man. Only think — just where the tunnel ended, the 
drain ran into a great canal ; and for him that would have 
been as dangerous as for us to be carried down a great water- 
fall. 

Now he was already so near it that he could not stop. 
The boat was carried out, the poor Tin Soldier stiffening 
himself as much as he could, and no one could say that he 
moved an eyelid. The boat whirled round three or four 
times, and was full of water to the very edge — it must sink. 
The Tin Soldier stood up to his neck in water, and the boat 
sank deeper and deeper, and the paper was loosened more and 
more; and now the water closed over the Soldier’s head. 
Then he thought of the pretty little Dancer, and how he 
should never see her again ; and it sounded in the Soldier’s 


Cars 1 : 
“ Farewell, farewell, thou warrior brave, 


Die shalt thou this day.” 


And now the paper parted, and the Tin Soldier fell out ; 
but at that moment he was snapped up by a great fish. 

O, how dark it was in that fish’s body! It was darker yet 
than in the drain tunnel ; and then it was very narrow, too. 
But the Tin Soldier remained unmoved, and lay at full length, 
shouldering his musket. 

The fish swam to and fro; he made the most wonderful 
movements, and then became quite still. At last something 
flashed through him like lightning. The daylight shone quite 
clear, and a voice said aloud, “The Tin Soldier!” The 
fish had been caught, carried to market, bought, and taken 
into the kitchen, where the cook cut him open with a large 
knife. She seized the Soldier round the body with both her 
hands, and carried him into the room, where all were anxious 
to see the remarkable man who had travelled about in the 
inside of a fish; but the Tin Soldier was not at all proud. 
They placed him on the table, and there—no! What curi- 
ous things may happen in the world! The Tin Soldier was 


372 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


in the very room in which he had been before! he saw the 
same children, and the same toys stood upon the table; and 
there was the pretty castle with the graceful little Dancer. 
She was still balancing herself on one leg, and held the other 
extended in the air. She was faithful too. That moved the 
Tin Soldier: he was very near weeping tin tears, but that 
would not have been proper. He looked: at her, but they 
said nothing to each other. 

Then one of the little boys took the Tin Soldier and flung 
him into the stove. He gave no reason for doing this. It 
must have been the fault of the Goblin in the snuff-box. 

The Tin Soldier stood there quite illuminated, and felt a 
heat that was terrible ; but whether this heat proceeded from 
the real fire or from love he did not know. ‘The colors had 
quite gone off from him ; but whether that had happened on 
the journey, or had been caused by grief, no one could say. 
He looked at the little Lady, she looked at him, and he felt 
that he was melting ; but he stood firm, shouldering his mus- 
ket. Then suddenly the door flew open, and the draught of 
air caught the Dancer, and she flew like a sylph just into the 
stove to the Tin Soldier, and flashed up in a flame, and then 
was gone! Then the Tin Soldier melted down into a lump, 
and when the servant-maid took the ashes out next day, she 
found him in the shape of a little tin heart. But of the 
Dancer nothing remained but the tinsel rose, and that was 
burned as black as a coal. 


SUNSHINE STORIES, 373 


SUNSHINE STORIES. 


OW Iam going to tell a story,” said the Wind. 
l “Excuse me,” said the Rain,” but now it is my turn; 
you have been howling round the corner as hard as ever you 
could, this long time past.” 

“Js that your gratitude toward me?” said the Wind. “I 
who, in honor of you, turn inside out — yes, even break — all 
the umbrellas, when people won’t have anything to do with 
you.” 

“T am going to speak!” said the Sunshine. ‘“ Silence!” 
And the Sunshine said it with such glory and majesty, that the 
long, weary Wind fell prostrate, and the Rain beat against 
him, and shook him, and said, —“We won’t stand it! She 
always breaks through, that Madam Sunshine ; we won’t listen 
to her. What she says is not worth hearing.” 

But the Sunshine said,— “A beautiful swan flew over the 
rolling, tumbling waves of the ocean. Every one of its feathers 
shone like gold: one feather drifted down on the great merchant 
vessel that, with all sail set, was sailing away. The feather 
dropped on the curly light hair of a young man, whose busi- 
ness it was to have a care for the goods, — supercargo they 
called him. ‘The bird of Fortune’s feather touched his fore- 
head, became a pen in his hand, and brought him such luck, 
that very soon he became a wealthy merchant, — rich enough 
to have bought for himself spurs of gold ; rich enough to 
change a golden dish into a nobleman’s shield ; and I shone 
on it,”’ said the Sunshine. 

“The swan flew further, away over the bright green meadow, 
where the little shepherd-boy, only seven years old, had lain 
down in the shadow of the old and only tree there was. ‘The 
swan, in its flight, kissed one of the leaves of the tree. The 
leaf fell into the boy’s hand, and it was changed to three 
leaves, to ten, — yes, to a whole book, —and in it he read 
about all the wonders of nature, about his native language, 
about faith and knowledge. At night he laid the book under 
his head, that he might not forget what he had been reading. 


374 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STURIES. 


The wonderful book led him to the school-bench, and thence 
in search of knowledge. I have read his name among the 
names of Jearned men,” said the Sunshine. 

“The swan flew into the quiet, lonely forest, rested awhile 
on the dark, deep lake, where the water-lilies grow ; where the 
wild apples are to be found on the shore ;.where the cuckoo 
and wild pigeon have their homes. 

“ A poor woman was in the wood, gathering firewood — 
branches that had fallen down, and dry sticks ; she carried . 
them in a bundle on her back, and in her arms she held her 
little child. She saw the golden swan, the bird of Fortune, 
rise from among the reeds on the shore. What was that that 
glittered? A golden egg, quite warm yet. She laid it in her 
bosom, and the warmth remained in it. Surely there was life 
in the egg! She heard a gentle picking inside of the shell, 
but mistook the sound, and thought it was her own heart that 
she heard beating. 

“‘ At home, in the poor cottage, she took out the egg; ‘tick, 
tick,’ it said, as if it had been a valuable gold watch ; but that 
it was not, only an egg —a real, living egg. The egg cracked 
and opened, and a dear little baby-swan, all feathered as with 
purest gold, put out its little head ; round its neck it had four 
rings, and as the poor woman had four boys, — three at home, 
and the little one that she had had with her in the lonely wood, 
—she understood at once that here was a ring for each boy ; 
and just as she thought of that, the little gold-bird took flight. 
She kissed each ring, made each of the children kiss one of 
the rings, laid it next to the child’s heart, then put it on his 
finger. I saw it all,” said the Sunshine, “and I saw what 
followed. 

“One of the boys was playing in a ditch, and took a lump 
of clay in his hand, turned and twisted and pressed it between 
his fingers, till it took shape, and was like ¥ason, who went in 
search of and found the golden fleece. 

“The second boy ran out on the meadow, where the flowers 
stood, — flowers of all imaginable colors ; he gathered a hand- 
ful, and squeezed them so tight that all the juice spurted into 
his eyes, and some of it wetted the ring. It cribbled and 
crawled in his thoughts, and in his hands, and after many a 


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SUNSHINE STORIES. ae 


day, and many a year, people in the great city talked of the 
great painter. 

“The third child held the ring so tight in his teeth, that it 
gave forth sound, an echo of the song in the depth of his 
heart. ‘Thoughts and feelings rose in beautiful sounds ; rose 
like singing swans ; plunged, like swans, into the deep, deep 
sea. He became a great master, a great composer, of whom 
every country has the right to say, ‘ He was mine!’ 

“And the fourth little one was—yes, he was — the ‘ugly 
duck’ of the family ; they said he had the pip, and must have 
pepper and butter, like the little sick chickens, and that he 
got ; but of me he got a warm, sunny kiss,” said the Sunshine. 
“ He got ten kisses for one ; he was a poet, and was buffeted 
and kissed, alternately, all his life. But he held what no one 
could take from him, — the Ring of Fortune, from Dame For- 
tune’s golden swan. His thoughts took wings, and flew up 
and away, like singing butterflies, —the emblem of immor- 
tality!” 

“That was a dreadfully long story,” said the Wind. 

“ And O, how stupid and tiresome!” said the Rain. “ Blow 
on me, please, that I may revive a little.” 

And the Wind blew, and the Sunshine said, — “The swan 
of Fortune flew over the beautiful bay, where the fishermen 
had set their nets ; the poorest of them wanted to get married, 
and marry he did. To him the swan brought a piece of am- 
ber ; amber draws things toward it, and it drew hearts to the 
house. Amber is the most wonderful incense, and there came 
a soft perfume, as from a church ; there came a sweet breath 
from out of beautiful nature, that God has made. They were 
so happy and grateful for their peaceful home, and content 
even in their poverty. ‘Their life became a real Sunshine 
story !” 

“T think we had ae stop now,” said the Wind, “the Sun: 
shine has talked long enough, and I am dreadfully bored.” 

** And I also,” said the Rain. 

And what do we others, who have heard the story, say? 

We say, ‘ Now my story’s done.” 


378 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


THE STONE OF THE WISE MEN. 


OU know the story of Holger the Dane? then we will 
not repeat it, but ask you if you recollect how “ Holger 
the Dane wandered over the great land of India east, out to 
the end of the world, to the tree that is called ‘ The Tree of 
the Sun,’” as Christen Pedersen says ; do you know Christen 
Pedersen? It is all the same if you do not know him. Hol- 
ger the Dane gave Prester John his power and authority over 
India. Do you know about Prester John? Yes; well, it is 
also just the same if you do not, for he doesn’t come into our 
story. You are to hear of the Tree of the Sun “in India, 
eastward at the end of the world,” as they believed who had 
not studied their geography, as we have studied it, and now 
that also is all the same! 

The Tree of the Sun was a noble tree, such as we have 
never seen and shall probably never see. ‘he crown stretched 
out several miles around ; it was really an entire wood; each 
of its smallest branches formed, in its turn, a whole tree. 
Palms, beech-trees, pines, plane-trees, and various other kinds 
grew here, which are found scattered in all other parts of the 
world; they shot out like small branches from the great boughs, 
and these large boughs with their windings and knots formed, 
as it were, valleys and hills, clothed with velvety green and 
covered with flowers. Everything was like a wide, blooming 
meadow, or like the most charming garden. Here the birds 
from all quarters of the world assembled together, — birds 
from the primeval forests of America, the rose gardens of 
Damascus, from the deserts of Africa, in which the elephant 
and the lion boast of being the only rulers. The Polar birds 
came flying hither, and of course the stork and the swallow 
were not absent ; but the birds were not the only living be- 
ings: the stag, the squirrel, the antelope, and a hundred other 
beautiful and light-footed animals were here at home. ‘The 
crown of the tree was a wide-spread fragrant garden, and in 
the midst of it, where the great boughs raised themselves into 
a green hill, there stood a castle of crystal, with a view toward 


THE STONE OF THE WISE MEN. 379 


every quarter of heaven. Each tower was reared in the form 
of a lily. Through the stem one could ascend, for within it 
was a winding stair; one could step out upon the leaves as 
upon balconies ; and up in the calyx of the flower itself was 
the most beautiful, sparkling round hall, above which no other 
roof rose but the blue firmament with sun and stars. 

Just as much splendor, though in another way, appeared 
below, in the wide halls of the castle. Here, on the walls, the 
whole world around was reflected. One saw everything that 
was done, so that there was no necessity of reading any pa- 
pers, and, indeed, papers were not obtainable there. Every- 
thing was to be seen in living pictures, if one only wished to 
see it ; for too much is still too much even for the wisest man; 
and this man dwelt here. His name is very difficult — you 
will not be able to pronounce it, and therefore it may remain 
unmentioned. He knew everything that a man on earth can 
know or can get to know ; every invention which had already 
been or which was yet to be made, was known to him ; but 
nothing more, for everything in the world has its limits, The 
wise King Solomon was only half as wise as he, and yet he 
was very wise, and governed the powers of nature, and held 
sway over potent spirits ; yes, Death itself was obliged to give 
him every morning a list of those who were to die during the 
day. But King Solomon himself was obliged to die too ; 
and this thought it was which often in the deepest manner 
employed the inquirer, the mighty lord in the castle on the 
Tree of the Sun. He also, however high he might tower 
above men in wisdom, must die one day. He knew that he 
and his children also must fade away like the leaves of the 
forest, and become «lust. He sawthe human race fade away 
like the leaves on the tree ; saw new men come to fill their 
places ; but the leaves that fell off never sprouted forth again 
—they fell to dust or were transformed into other parts of 
plants. 

“What happens to man,” the Wise Man asked himself, 
“when the angel of death touches him! What may death be? 
The body is dissolved. And thesoul? Yes, whatis the soul? 
whither doth it go? To eternal life, says the comforting voice 
of religion ; but what is the transition? where does one live, 


380 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


and how? Above, in heaven, says the pious man ; thither we 
go. Thither?” repeated the Wise Man, and fixed his eyes 
upon the moon and stars ; “up yonder?” 

But he saw, from the earthly ball, that above and below 
were alike changing their position, according as one stood 
here or there on the rolling globe: and even if he mounted 
as high as the loftiest mountains of earth rear their heads, to 
the air which we below call clear and transparent — the pure 
heaven —a black darkness spread abroad like a cloth, and 
the sun had a coppery glow and sent forth no rays, and our 
earth lay wrapped in an orange-colored mist. How narrow 
were the limits of the corporeal eye, and how little the eye of 
the soul could see! how little did even the wisest know of 
that which is the most important to us all! 

In the most secret chamber of the castle lay the greatest 
treasure of the earth,—the Book of Truth. Leaf for leaf, the 
Wise Man read it through ; every man may read in this book, 
but only by fragments. ‘To many an eye the characters seem 
to tremble, so that the words cannot be put together ; on cer- 
tain pages the writing often seems so pale, so blurred, that 
only a blank leaf appears. The wiser a man becomes, the 
more he will read ; and the wisest read most. He knew how 
to unite the sunlight and the moonlight with the light of reason 
and of hidden powers ; and through this stronger light many 
things came clearly before him from the page. But in the 
division of the book whose title is “ Life after Death,” not 
even one point was to be distinctly seen. That pained him. 
Should he not be able here upon earth to obtain a light by 
which everything should become clear to him that stood 
written in the Book of Truth? 

Like the wise King Solomon, he understood the language 
of the animals, and could interpret their talk and their songs. 
But that made him none the wiser. He found out the forces 
of plants and metals, —the forces to be used for the cure of 
diseases, for delaying death, — but none that could destroy 
death. In all created things that were within his reach he 
sought the light that should shine upon the certainty of an 
eternal life ; but he found it not. The Book of Truth lay be- 
fore him ah leaves that appeared blank. Christianity showed 


WE STONE OF THE WISE MEN. 381 


itself to him in the Bible with words of promise of an eternal 
life; but he wanted to read it in 42s book ; but here he saw 
nothing written on the subject. 

He had five children — four sons, educated as well as the 
children of the wisest father could be, and a daughter, fair, 
mild, and clever, but blind ; yet this appeared no deprivation 
to her —her father and brothers were outward eyes to her, 
and the vividness of her feelings saw for her. 

Never had the sons gone farther from the castle than the 
branches of the tree extended, nor had the sister strayed 
from home. ‘They were happy children in the land of child. 
hood — in the beautiful, fragrant Tree of the Sun. Like all 
children, they were very glad when any history was related to 
chem ; and the father told them many things that other chil- 
dren would not have understood ; but these were just as 
clever as most grown-up people are among us. He explained 
to them what they saw in the pictures of life on the castle 
walls —the doings of men, and the march of events in all 
the lands of the earth ; and often the sons expressed the wish 
that they could be present at all the great deeds and take 
part in them ; and their father then told them that out in the 
world it was difficult and toilsome —that the world was not 
quite what it appeared to them as they looked forth upon it 
from their beauteous home. He spoke to them of the true, 
the beautiful, and the good, and told them that these three 
held together in the world, and that under the pressure they 
had to endure, they became hardened into a precious stone, 
clearer than the water of the diamond —a jewel whose splen- 
dor had value with God, whose brightness outshone every- 
thing, and which was the so-called “Stone of the Wise.” He 
told them how men could attain by investigation to the knowl- 
edge of the existence of God, and that through men them- 
selves one could attain to the certainty that such a jewel as 
the “ Stone of the Wise” existed. ‘This narration would have 
exceeded the perception of other children, but these children 
understood it, and at length other children, too, will learn to 
comprehend its meaning. 

They questioned their father concerning the true, the beau- 
tiful, and the good; and he explained it to them, told them 


3 2 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


many things, and told them also that God, when He made 
man out of the dust of the earth, gave five kisses to His work 
—fiery kisses, heart kisses—which we now call the five 
senses. Through these the true, the beautiful, and the good 
is seen, perceived, and understood ; through these it is valued, 
protected, and furthered. Five senses have been given cor- 
poreally and mentally, inwardly and outwardly, to body and 
soul. 

The children reflected deeply upon all these things ; they 
meditated upon them by day and by night. Then the eldest 
of the brothers dreamed a splendid dream. Strangely enough, 
the second brother had the same dream, and the third, and 
the fourth brother likewise ; all of them dreamed exactly the 
same thing, — namely, that each went out into the world and 
found the “ Stone of the Wise,” which gleamed like a beaming 
light on his forehead when, in the morning dawn, he rode back 
on his swift horse over the velvety green meadows of his 
home into the castle of his father ; and the jewel threw such 
a heavenly light and radiance upon the leaves of the book, 
that everything was illuminated that stood written concerning 
the life beyond the grave. But the sister dreamed nothing 
about going out into the wide world; it never entered her 
mind. Her world was her father’s house. 

“I shall ride forth into the wide world,” said the eldest 
brother. ‘I must try what life is like there, and go to and 
fro among men. I will practice only the good and the true ; 
with these I will protect the beautiful. Much shall change 
for the better when I am there.” 

Now his thoughts were bold and great, as our thoughts gen- 
erally are at home, before we have gone forth into the world, 
and have encountered wind and rain, and thorns and thistles. 

In him and in all his brothers the five senses were highly 
developed, inwardly and outwardly ; but each of them had 
one sense which in keenness and development surpassed the 
other four. In the case of the eldest this preéminent sense. 
was Sight. This was to do him especial service. He said he 
had eyes for all time, eyes for all nations, eyes that could look 
into the depths of the earth, where the treasures lie hidden, 
and deep into the hearts of men, as though nothing but a pane 


THE STONE OF THE WISE MEN. 383 


of glass was placed before them; he could read more than 
we can see on the cheek that blushes or grows pale, in the eye 
that droops or smiles. Stags and antelopes escorted him to 
the boundary of his home toward the west, and there the 
wild swans received him and flew northwest. He followed 
them. And now he had gone far out into the world — far 
from the land of his father, that extended eastward to the end 
of the earth. 

But how he opened his eyes in astonishment! Many things 
were here to be seen ; and many things appear very different 
when a man beholds them with his own eyes, or when he 
merely sees them in a picture, as the son had done in his 
father’s house, however faithful the picture may be. At the 
outset he nearly lost his eyes in astonishment at all the rub- 
bish and all the masquerading stuff put forward to represent 
the beautiful ; but he did not quite lose them, and soon found 
full employment for them. He wished to go thoroughly and 
honestly to work in the understanding of the beautiful, the 
true, and the good. But how were these represented in the 
world? He saw that often the garland that belonged to the 
beautiful was given to the hideous; that the good was often 
passed by without notice, while mediocrity was applauded 
when it should have been hissed off. People looked to the 
dress, and not to the wearer ; asked for a name, and not for 
desert ; and went more by reputation than by service. It was 
the same thing everywhere. 

“JT see I must attack these things vigorously,” he said, and 
attacked them with vigor accordingly. 

But while he was looking for the truth, came the Evil One, 
the father of lies. Gladly would the fiend have plucked out 
the eyes of this Seer ; but that would have been too direct: 
the devil works in a more cunning way. He let him see and 
seek the true and the good ; but while the young man was 
contemplating them, the Evil Spirit blew one mote after 
another into each of his eyes ; and such a proceeding would 
be hurtful even to the best sight. Then the fiend blew upon 
the motes, so that they became beams ; and the eyes were 
destroyed, and the Seer stood like a blind man in the wide 
world, and had no faith in it: he lost his good opinion of it 


384 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


and himself ; and when a man gives up the world and himself, 
all is over with him. 

“Over!” said the wild swan, who flew across the sea tow- 
ard the east. ‘‘ Over!” twittered the swallows, who likewise 
flew eastward, toward the Tree of the Sun. That was no 
good news that they carried to the young man’s home. 


“T fancy the Seer must have fared badly,” said the second 
brother ; “but the /earer may have better fortune.” For this 
one possessed the sense of hearing in an eminent degree: he 
could hear the grass grow, so quick was he to hear. 

He took a hearty leave of all at home, and rode away, pro- 
vided with good abilities and good: intentions. ‘The swallows 
escorted him, and he followed the swans; and he stood far 
from his home in the wide world. 

But he experienced the fact that one may have too much of 
a good thing. His hearing was /oo fine. He not only heard 
the grass grow, but could hear every man’s heart beat, in sor- 
row and in joy. ‘The whole world was to him like a great 
clockmaker’s workshop, wherein all the clocks were going 
“tick, tick!” and all the turret clocks striking “ding dong.” 
It was unbearable. For a long time his ears held out, but at 
last all the noise and screaming became too much for one 
man. There came blackguard boys of sixty years old — for 
years alone don’t make men—and raised a tumult at which 
the Hearer might certainly have laughed, but for the applause 
which followed, and which echoed through every house and 
street, and was audible even in the country high road. False- 
hood thrust itself forward and played the master ; the bells 
on the fool’s cap jangled and declared they were church bells ; 
and the noise became too bad for the Hearer, and he thrust 
his fingers into his ears ; but still he could hear false singing 
and bad sounds, gossip and idle words, scandal and slander, 
groaning and moaning without and within. Heaven help us! 
He thrust his fingers deeper and deeper into his ears, but at 
last the drums burst. Now he could hear nothing at all of 
the good, the true, and the beautiful, for his hearing was to 
have been the bridge by which he crossed. He became silent 
and suspicious, trusted no one at last, not even himself ; and, 


THE STONE OF THE WISE ME 385 


no longer hoping to find and bring home the costly jewel, he 
gave it up, and gave himself up ; and that was the worst of 
all. The birds who winged their flight toward the east 
brought tidings of this, till the news reached the castle in the 
Freetot the Sun. 


“ Twill try now!” said the third brother. “I have a sharp 
nose [”’ 

Now that was not said in very good taste ; but it was his 
way, and one must take him as he was. He had a happy 
temper, and was a poet, a real poet: he could sing many 
things that he could not say, and many things struck him far 
earlier than they occurred to others. “I can smell fire!” he 
said ; and he attributed to the sense of smelling, which he 
possessed in a very high degree, a great power in the region 
of the beautiful. 

“Every fragrant spot in the realm of the beautiful has its 
frequenters,” he said. ‘One man feels at home in the atmos- 
phere of the tavern, among the flaring tallow candles, where 
the smell of spirits mingles with the fumes of bad tobacco. 
Another prefers sitting among the overpowering scent of jes- 
samine, or scenting himself with strong clove oil. This man 
seeks out the fresh sea-breeze, while that one climbs to the 
highest mountain-top and looks down upon the busy little 
life beneath.” : 

Thus he spake. It seemed to him as if he had already 
been out in the world, as if he had already associated with 
men and known them. But this experience arose from within 
himself: it was the poet within him, the gift of Heaven, and 
bestowed on him in his cradle. 

He bade farewell to his paternal roof in the Tree of the 
Sun, and departed on foot through the pleasant scenery of 
home. Arrived at its confines, he mounted on the back of an 
ostrich, which runs faster than a horse ; and afterward, when 
he fell in with the wild swans, he swung himself on the strong- 
est of them, for he loved change ; and away he flew over the 
sea to distant lands with great forests, deep lakes, mighty 
mountains, and proud cities ; and wherever he came it seemed 
as if sunshine travelled with him across the fields, for every 

25 


386 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


flower, every bush, every tree exhaled a new fragrance, in the 
- consciousness that a friend and protector was in the neigh- 
borhood, who understood them and knew their value. The 
crippled rose-bush reared up its twigs, unfolded its leaves, 
and bore the most beautiful roses ; every. one could see it, 
and even the black, damp Wood Snail noticed its beauty. 

i will:give my. seal to the flower,” said the (Snailagege 
have spit at it, and I can do no more for it.” 

“Thus it always fares with the beautiful in this world!” 
said the Poet. 

And he sang a song concerning it, sang it in his own way; 
but nobody listened. ‘Then he gave the Drummer twopence 
and a peacock’s feather, and set the song for the drum, and 
had it drummed in all the streets of the town ; and the peo- 
ple heard it, and said, ‘“That’s a well-constructed song.” 
Then the Poet sang several songs of the beautiful, the true, 
and the good. His songs were listened to in the tavern, 
where the tallow candles smoked, in the fresh meadow, in the 
forest, and on the high seas. It appeared as if this brother 
was to have better fortune than the two others. But the Evil 
Spirit was angry at this, and accordingly he set to work with 
incense powder and incense smoke, which he can prepare so 
artfully as to confuse an angel, and how much more, there- 
fore, a poor poet! The Evil One knows how to take that 
kind of people! He surrounded the Poet so completely with 
incense, that the man lost his head, and forgot his mission 
and his home, and at last himself — and ended in smoke. 

But when the little birds heard of this they mourned, and 
for three days they sang not one song. The black Wood 
Snail became blacker still, not for grief, but for envy. 3 ; 

“They should have strewed incense for me,” she said. 
“for it was I who gave him his idea of the most famous of | 
his songs, the drum song of ‘The Way of the World ;’ it was 
I who spat at the rose! I can bring witness to the fact.” | 

But no tidings of all this penetrated to the Poet’s home in | 
India, for all the birds were silent for three days: and when 
the time of mourning was over, their grief had been so deep 
that they had forgotten for whom they wept. That’s the ~ 
usual way! 


. 
a 


“4 
‘ 


- 


THE STONE OF THE WISE MEN. 387 


“Now I shall have to go out into the world, to disappear 
like the rest,” said the fourth brother. 

He had just as good a wit as the third, but he was no poet, 
though he could be witty. ‘Those two had filled the castle 
with cheerfulness, and now the last cheerfulness’ was going 
away. Sight and hearing have always been looked upon as 
the two chief senses of men, and as the two that it is most 
desirable to sharpen; the other senses are looked upon as 
of less consequence. But that was not the opinion of this 
son, as he had especially cultivated his ¢ast¢e in every respect, 
and taste is very powerful. It holds sway over what goes 
into the mouth, and also over what penetrates into the mind ; 
and consequently this brother tasted everything that was 
stored up in bottles and pots, saying that this was the rough 
work of his office. Every man was to him‘a vessel in which 
something was seething, every country an enormous kitchen, 
a kitchen of the mind. 

“That is no delicacy,” he said ; and he wanted to go out 
and try what was delicate. “ Perhaps fortune may be more 
favorable to me than it was to my brothers,” he said. “I 
shall start on my travels. But what conveyance shall I 
choose? Are air balloons invented yet?” he asked his father, 
who knew of all inventions that had been made or that were 
to be made. But air balloons had not yet been invented, nor 
steamships, nor railways. ‘Good: then I shall choose an 
air balloon,” he said ; “my father knows how they are made 
and guided. Nobody has invented them yet, and conse- 
quently the people will believe that it is an aérial phantom. 
When I have used the balloon I will burn it, and for this pur- 
pose you must give me a few pieces of the invention that will 
be made next —I mean chemical matches.” 

And he obtained what he wanted, and flew away. The 
birds accompanied him further than they had flown with the 
other brothers. They were curious to know what would be 
the result of the flight, and more of them came sweeping up : 
they thought he was some new bird; and he soon hada 
_ goodly following. The air became black with birds ; they 
came on like a cloud — like the cloud of locusts over the land 
of Egypt. 


” | 


Fy: 


338 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


Now he was out in the wide world. 

The air balloon descended over one of the greatest cities, and 
the aéronaut took up his station on the highest point, on the 
church steeple. The balloon rose again, which it ought not to 
have done: where it went to is not known, but that was not a 
matter of consequence, for it was not yet invented. Then he 
sat on the church steeple. The birds no longer hovered 
around him, they had got tired of him, and he was tired of 
them. 

All the chimneys in the town were smoking merrily. 

“Those are altars erected to thy honor!” said the Wind, 
who wished to say something agreeable to him. 

He sat boldly up there, and looked down upon the people 
in the street. There was one stepping along, proud of his 
purse ; another of the key he carried at his girdle, though he 
bad nothing to unlock ; one proud of his math-eaten coat, 
another of his wasted body. 

“Vanity! I must hasten downward, dip my finger in the 
pot, and taste!” he said. ‘ But for a while I will sit still here, 
for the wind blows so pleasantly against my back. _ [’ll sit here 
as long as the wind blows. T’ll enjoy a slight rest. ‘It is 
good to sleep long in the morning, when one has much to do,’ 
says the lazy man. [I'll stop here as long as this wind blows, 
for it pleases me.” 

And there he sat, but he was sitting upon the weathercock 
of the steeple, which kept turning round and round with him, 
so that he was under the false impression that the same wind 
still blew ; so he might stay up there a goodly while. 

But in India, in the castle in the Tree of the Sun, it was 
solitary and still, since the brothers had gone away, one after 
the other. 

“It goes not well with them,” said the father; “they will 
never bring the gleaming jewel home: it is not made for me ; 
they are gone, they are dead!” | 

And he bent down over the Book of Truth, and gazed at 
the page on which he should read of life after death ; but for 
him nothing was to be seen or learned upon it. 

The blind daughter was his consolation and joy; she at- 
tached herself with sincere affection to him, and for the sake 


THE STONE OF THE WISE MEN. 389 


of his peace and joy she wished the costly jewel might be 
found and brought home. With kindly longing she thought 
of her brothers. Where were they? Where did they live? 
She wished sincerely that she might dream of them, but it was 
strange, not even in dreams could she approach them. But at 
length, one night she dreamed that the voices of her brothers | 
sounded across to her, calling to her from the wide world, 
and she could not refrain, but went far, far out, and yet it 
seemed in her dream that she was still in her father’s house. 
She did not meet her brothers, but she felt, as it were, a fire 
burning in her hand, but it did not hurt her, for it was the 
jewel she was bringing to her father. When she awoke, she 
thought for a moment that she still held the stone, but it was 
the knob of her distaff that she was grasping. During the - 
long night she had spun incessantly, and round the distaff 
was turned a thread, finer than the finest web of the spider ; 
human eyes were unable to distinguish the separate threads. 
She had wetted them with her tears, and the twist was strong 
as a cable. She rose, and her resolution was taken; the 
dream must be made a reality. It was night, and her father 
slept. She pressed a kiss upon his hand, and then took her 
distaff, and fastened the end of the thread to her father’s 
house. But for this, blind as she was, she would never have 
found her way home ; to the thread she must hold fast, and 
trust not to herself or to others. From the Tree of the Sun 
she broke four leaves ; these she would confide to wind and 
weather, that they might fly to her brothers as a letter anda 
greeting in case she did not meet them in the wide world. 
How would she fare out yonder, she, the poor blind child? 
But she had the invisible thread to which she could hold fast. 
She possessed a gift which all the others lacked. This was 
thoroughness ; and in virtue of this it seemed as if she could 
see to the tips of her fingers and hear down into her very 
heart. 

And quietly she went forth into the noisy, whirling, wonder- 
ful world, and wherever she went the sky grew bright ; she 
felt the warm ray; the rainbow spread ‘itself out from the 
dark world through the blue air. She heard the song of the 
birds, and smelt the scent of orange groves and apple or- 


ad 
ee 


390 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


chards so strongly that she seemed to taste it. Soft tones and 
charming songs reached her ear, but also howling and roaring, 
and thoughts and opinions sounded in strange contradiction to 
each other. Into the innermost depths of her heart pene- 
trated the echoes of human oe and feelings. One chorus 
sounded darkly, — 
“The life of earth is a shadow vain, 
A night created for sorrow !” 
but then came another strain, — 
“The life of earth is the scent of the rose, 
With its sunshine and its pleasure.” 


And if one strophe sounded painfully,— 


“ Each mortal thinks of himself alone, 
This truth has been shown, how often !”’ 


on the other side the answer pealed forth, — 
‘A mighty stream of warmest love 
All through the world shall bear us.” 
She heard, indeed, the words, — 
“Tn the little petty whirl here below, 
Each thing shows mean and paltry ; 
but then came also the comfort, — 


“Many things great and good are achieved, 
That the ear of man heareth never.” 


And if sometimes the mocking strain sounded around her, — 


“ Join in the common cry ; with a jest 
Destroy the good gifts of the Giver,” 


in the Blind Girl’s heart a stronger voice repeated, — 


“To trust in thyself and in God is best ; 

fis will be done forever.” 
And whenever she entered the circle of human kind, and ap- 
peared among young or old, the knowledge of the true, the 
good, and the beautiful beamed into their hearts. Whether 
she entered the study of the artist, or the festive decorated 
hall, or the crowded factory, with its whirring wheels, it 
seemed as though a sunbeam were stealing in—as if the 
sweet string sounded, the flower exhaled its perfume, and a 
living dew-drop fell upon the exhausted blood. 


i 


THE STONE OF THE: WISE MEN. 391 


But the Evil Spirit could not see this and be content. He 
has more cunning than ten thousand men, and he found out 
a way to compass his end. He betook himself to the marsh, 
collected little bubbles of the stagnant water, and passed over 
them a sevenfold echo of lying words to give them strength. 
Then he pounded up paid-for heroic poems and lying epi- 
taphs, as many as he could get, boiled them in tears that 
envy had shed, put upon them rouge he had scraped from 
faded cheeks, and of these he composed a maiden, with the 
aspect and gait of the blessed Blind Girl, the angel of thor- 
oughness ; and then the Evil One’s plot was in full progress. 
The world knew not which of the two was the true one ; and, 
indeed, how should the world know? 


“To trust in thyself and in God is best; 
His good will be done forever,” 


sung the Blind Girl, in full faith. She intrusted the four green 
leaves from the Tree of the Sun to the winds, as a letter and 
a greeting to her brothers, and had full confidence that they 
would reach their destination, and that the jewel would be 
found which outshines all the glories of the world. From 
the forehead of humanity it would gleam even to the castle 
of her father. 

“ Evento my father’s house,” she repeated. “Yes, the 
place of the jewel is on earth, and I shall bring more than 
the promise of it with me. I feel its glow, it swells more and 
more in my closed hand. Every grain of truth, were it never 
so fine, which the sharp wind carried up and whirled toward 
me, I took up and treasured ; I let it be penetrated, by the 
fragrance of the beautiful, of which there is so much in the 
world, even for the blind. I took the sound of the beating 
heart engaged in what is good, and added it to the first. All 
that I bring is but dust, but still it is the dust of the jewel we 
seek, and in plenty. I have my whole hand full of it.” 

And she stretched forth her hand toward her father. She 
was soon at home — she had travelled thither in the flight of 
thoughts, never having quitted her hold of the invisible thread 
from the paternal home. 

The evil powers rushed with hurricane fury over the Tree 


392 ANDERSEN'S WONDER STORIES. 


of the Sun, and pressed with a wind-blast against the open 
doors, and into the sanctuary where lay the Book of Truth. 

“Tt will be blown away by the wind!” said the father, and 
he seized the hand she had opened. 

“No,” she replied, with quiet confidence, “it cannot be 
blown away ; I feel the beam warming my very soul.” 

And the father became aware of a glancing flame, there 
where the shining dust poured out of her hand over the Book 
of Truth, that was to tell of the certainty of an everlasting 
life ; and on it stood one shining word —one only word — 

‘¢ BELIEVE.” 

And with the father and daughter were again the four 


brothers. When the green leaf fell upon the bosom of each, 


a longing for home had seized them and led them back. 
They had arrived. The birds of passage, and the stag, the 


antelope, and all the creatures of the forest followed them, 


for all wished to have a part in their joy. 

We have often seen, where a sunbeam bursts through a 
crack in the door into the dusty room, how a whirling column 
of dust seems circling round; but this was not poor and in- 
significant like common dust, for even the rainbow is dead in 
color compared with the beauty which showed itself. Thus, 
from the leaf of the book with the beaming word “ Believe,” 
arose every grain of truth, decked with ‘the charms of the 
beautiful and the good, burning brighter than the mighty pillar 
of flame that led Moses and the children of Israel through 
the desert ; and from the word “ Believe” the bridge of Hope 


arose, spanning the distance, even to the immeasurable love ® 


in the realms of the Infinite. 


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OW you shall hear ! 

Out in the country, close by the road-side, there was 
a country-house: you yourself have certainly once seen it. 
Before it is a little garden with flowers, and a paling, which is 
painted. Close by it, by the ditch, in the midst of the most 
beautiful green grass, grew a little Iaisy. The sun shone as 
warmly and as brightly upon it as on the great splendid gar- 
den flowers, and so it grew from hour to hour. One morning 
it stood in full bloom, with its little shining white leaves 
spreading like rays round the little yellow sun in the centre. 
It never thought that no man would notice it down. in the 
grass, and that it was a poor despised floweret ; no, it was 
very merry, and turned to the warm sun, looked up at it, and 
listened to the Lark caroling high in the air. 

The little Daisy was as happy as if it were a great holiday, 
and yet it was only a Monday. All the children were at 
school ; and while they sat on their benches: learning, it sat 
on its little green stalk, and learned also from the warm sun, 
and from all around, how good God is. And the Daisy was. 
very glad that everything that it silently felt was sung so 
loudly and charmingly by the Lark. And the Daisy looked 


394 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


up with a kind of respect to the happy bird who could sing — 


and fly ; but it was not at all sorrowful becatise it could not 
fly and sing also. 

“T can see and hear,” it thought: “the sun shines on me, 
and the forest kisses me. O, how richly have I been gifted!” 

Within the palings stood many stiff, aristocratic flowers — 
the less scent they had the more they flaunted. The peonies 
blew themselves out to be greater than the roses, but size will 
not do it; the tulips had the most splendid colors, and they 
knew that, and held themselves bolt upright, that they might 
be seen more plainly. They did not notice the little Daisy 
outside there, but the Daisy looked at them the more, and 
thought, “ How rich and beautiful they are! Yes, the pretty 
bird flies across to them and visits them. I am glad that I 
stand so near them, for at any rate I can enjoy the sight of 
their splendor!” And just as she thought that — “keevit!” 
— down came flying the Lark, but not down to the peonies 
and tulips— no, down into the grass to the lowly Daisy, 
which started so with joy that it did not know what to think. 

The little bird danced round about it, and sang, — 

“O, how soft the grass is! and see what a lovely little 
flower, with gold in its heart and silver on its dress!” 

For the yellow point in the Daisy looked like gold, and the 
little leaves around it shone silvery white. . 

How happy was the little Daisy —no one can conceive 
how happy! The bird kissed it with his beak, sang to it, and 
then flew up again into the blue air. A quarter of an hour 
passed, at least, before the Daisy could recover itself. Half 
ashamed, yet inwardly rejoiced, it looked at the other flowers 
in the garden, for they had seen the honor and happiness it 
had gained, and must understand what a joy it was. But the 
tulips stood up twice as stiff as before, and they looked quite 
peaky in the face and quite red, for they had been vexed. 
The peonies were quite wrong-headed : it was well they could 
not speak, or the Daisy would have received a good scolding. 
The poor little flower could see very well that they were not 
in a good humor, and that hurt it sensibly. At this moment 
there came into the garden a girl with a great sharp, shining 


knife ; she went straight up to the tulips, and cut off one after — 


another of them. 


THE DAISY. 395 


“OQ!” sighed the little Daisy, “that is dreadful! Now it is 
all over with them.” . 

Then the girl went away with the tulips. The Daisy was 
glad to stand out in the grass, and to be only a poor little 
flower ; it felt very grateful ; and when the sun went down it 
folded its leaves and went to sleep, and dreamed all night 
long about the sun and the pretty little bird. 

The next morning, when the flower again happily stretched 
out all its white leaves, like little arms, toward the air and 
the light, it recognized the voice of the bird, but the song he 
was singing sounded mournfully. Yes, the poor Lark had 
good reason to be sad: he was caught, and now sat in a cage 
close by the open window. He sang of free and happy roam- 
ing, sang of the young green corn in the fields, and of the 
glorious journey he might make on his wings high through the 
air. ‘The poor Lark was not in good spirits, for there he sat 
a prisoner in a cage. 

The little Daisy wished very much to help him. But what 
was it to do? Yes, that was difficult to make out. It quite 
forgot how everything was so beautiful around, how warm the 
sun shone, and how splendidly white its own leaves were. 
Ah! it could think only of the imprisoned bird, and how it 
was powerless to do anything for him. 

Just then two little boys came out of the garden. One of 
them carried in his hand the knife which the girl had used to 
cut off the tulips. They went straight up to the little Daisy, 
which could not at all make out what they wanted. 

“Here we may cut a capital piece of turf for the Lark,” 
said one of\the boys ; and he began to cut off a square patch 
round about the Daisy, so that the flower remained standing 
in its piece of grass. 

“Tear off the flower!” said the other boy. 

And the Daisy trembled with fear, for to be torn off would 
be to lose its life ; and now it wanted particularly to live, as 
_ it was to be given with the piece of turf to the captive Lark. 

“No, let it stay,” said the other boy ; “it makes such a 
nice ornament.” 

And so it remained, and was put into the Lark’s cage. But 
the poor bird complained aloud of his lost liberty, and beat. 


3 96 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


his wings against the wires of his prison ; and the little Daisy 
could not speak — could say no consoling word to him, gladly 
as it would have done so. And thus the whole morning 
passed. } 

‘“ Here is no water,” said the captive Lark. “They are all 

gone out, and have forgotten to give me anything to drink. 
My throat is dry and burning. It is like fire and ice within 
me, and the air is so close. O, I must die! I must leave the 
warm sunshine, the fresh green, and all the splendor that God 
has created !” 
_ And then he thrust his beak into the cool turf to refresh 
himself a little with it. Then the bird’s eye fell upon the 
Daisy, and he nodded to it, and kissed it with his beak, and 
said, — 

‘You also must wither in here, poor little flower. They 
have given you to me with the little patch of green grass on 
which you grow, instead of the whole world which was mine 
out there! Every little blade cf grass shall be a great tree for 
me, and every one of your fragrant leaves a great flower. 
Ah, you only tell me how much I have lost! ” 

“If I could only comfort him!” thought the Daisy. | 

It could not stir a leaf; but the scent which streamed forth 
from its delicate leaves was far stronger than is generally 
found in these flowers ; the bird also noticed that, and though 
he was fainting with thirst, and in his pain plucked up the 
green blades of grass, he did not touch the flower. 

The evening came on, and yet nobody appeared to bring 
the poor bird a drop of water. Then he stretched out his 
pretty wings and beat the air frantically with them ; his song 
changed to a mournful piping, his littlke head sank down 
toward the flower, and the bird’s heart broke with want and 
yearning. Then the flower could not fold its leaves, as it had 
done on the previous evening, and sleep ; it drooped, sorrowful 
and sick, toward the earth. 

Not till the next morn did the boys come ; and when they 
found the bird dead they wept — wept many tears, — and dug 
him a neat grave, which they adorned with leaves of flowers. 
The bird’s corpse was put into a pretty red box, for he was to 

_ be royally buried — the poor bird! While he was alive and 


LILA ATS ¥. 397 


sang they forgot him, and let him sit in his cage and suffer 
want ; but now that he was dead he had adornment and many 
tears. 

But the patch of turf with the Daisy on it was thrown out 
into the high road: no one thought of the flower that had felt 
the most for the little bird, and would have been so glad to 
console him. 


2 


398 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


THE SNOW MAN. 


T is so wonderfully cold that my whole body crackles !” 

said the Snow Man. “ This is a kind of wind that can 

blow life into one; and how the gleaming one up yonder is 

staring at me.” That was the sun he meant, which was just 

about to set. “It shall not make me wink —I shall manage 
to keep the pieces.” 

He had two triangular pieces of tile in his head instead of 
eyes. His mouth was made of an old rake, and consequently 
was furnished with teeth. 

He had been born amid the joyous shouts of the boys, and 
welcomed by the sound of sledge bells and the slashing of 
whips. » 

The sun went down, and the full moon rose, round, large, 
clear, and beautiful in the blue air. 

“There it comes again from the other side,” said the Snow 
Man. He intended to say the sun is showing himself again. 
“Ah! I have cured him of staring. Now let him hang up 
there and shine, that I may see myself. If I only knew how 
I could manage to move from this place, I should like so 
much to move. If I could, I would slide along yonder on the 
ice, just as I see the boys slide ; but I don’t understand it ; I 
don’t know how to run.” 

“ Away! away!” barked the old Yard Dog. He was quite 
hoarse, and could not pronounce the genuine “ bow, wow.” 
He had got the hoarseness from the time when he was an 
in-door dog, and lay by the fire. “The sun will teach you to 
run! I saw that last winter in your predecessor, and before 
that in Azs predecessor. Away! away! and away they all 
go.” * 

“T don’t understand you, comrade,” said the Snow Man. 
“That thing up yonder is to teach me to run?” He meant 
the moon. “Yes, it was running itself, when I saw it a little 
while ago, and now it comes creeping from the other side.” 

“You know nothing at all,” retorted the Yard Dog. “ But 
then you’ve only just been patched up. What you see yonder 


THE SNOW MAN. 399 


is the moon, and the one that went before was the sun. It 
will come again to-morrow, and will teach you to run down 
into the ditch by the wall. We shail soon have a change of 
weather ; I can feel that in my left hind leg, for it pricks and 
pains me: the weather is going to change.” 

“T don’t understand him,” said the Snow Man; “but I 
have a feeling that he’s talking about something disagreeable. 
The-one who stared so just now, and whom he called the sun, 
is not my friend. I can feel that.” 

“ Away! away!” barked the Yard Dog; and he turned 
round three.times, and then crept into his kennel to sleep. 

The weather really changed. Towards morning a thick, 
damp fog lay over the whole region ; later there came a wind, 
an icy wind. ‘The cold seemed quite to seize upon one ; but 
when the sun rose, what splendor! ‘Trees and bushes were 
covered with hoar-frost, and looked like a complete forest of 
coral, and every twig seemed covered with gleaming white 
buds. The many delicate ramifications, concealed in summer 
by the wreath of leaves, now made their appearance: it 
seemed like a lace-work, gleaming white. A snowy radiance 
sprang from every twig. The birch waved in the wind — it 
had life, like the rest of the trees in summer. It was wonder- 
fully beautiful. And when the sun shone, how it all gleamed 
and sparkled, as if diamond dust had been strewn everywhere, 
and big diamonds had been dropped on the snowy carpet of 
the earth! or one could imagine that countless little lights 
were gleaming, whiter than even the snow itself. 

“That is wonderfully beautiful,” said a young girl, who 
came with a young man into the garden.. They both stood 
still near the Snow Man, and contemplated the glittering 
trees, “Summer cannot show a more beautiful sight,” said 
she ; and her eyes sparkled. 

“ And we can’t have such a fellow as this in summer-time,” 
replied the young man, and he pointed to the Snow Man. 
“ He is capital.” 

The girl laughed, nodded to the Snow Man, and then 
danced away over the snow with her friend — over the snow 
that cracked and crackied under her tread as if she were 
walking on starch, 


400 ANDERSEN'S WONDER STORIES. 


‘““Who were those two?” the Snow Man inquired of the 
Yard Dog. ‘You’ve been longer in the yard than I. Do 
you know them?” 

“ Of course I know them,” replied the Yard Dog. “She 
has stroked me, and he has thrown me a meat bone. I don’t 
bite those two.” 

“ But what are they?” asked the Snow Man. 


“Lovers!” replied the Yard Dog. “ They will go to live 
in the same kennel, and gnaw at the same bone. Away! 
away!” 


“ Are they the same kind of beings as you and I?” asked 
the Snow Man. 

“Why, they belong to the master,” retorted the Yard Dog. 
“People certainly know very little who were only born yes- 
terday. I can see that in you. I have age and information. 
I know every one here in the house, and I know a time when 
I did not lie out here in the cold, fastened to a chain. Away! 
away!” ; 

“The cold is charming,” said the Snow Man. “Tell me, 
tell me. But you must not clank with your chain, for it jars 
within me when you do that.” 

‘“‘ Away ! away!” barked the Yard Dog. ‘“ They told me 
I was a pretty little fellow: then I used to lie in a chair cov- 
ered with velvet, up in master’s house, and sit in the lap of 
the mistress of all. They used to kiss my nose, and wipe my 
paws with an embroidered handkerchief. I was called ‘ Ami 
— dear Ami—sweet Ami.’ But afterward I grew too big 
for them, and they gave me away to the housekeeper. So I 
came to live in the basement story. You can look into that 
from where you are standing, and you can see into the room 
where I was master ; for I was master at the housekeeper’s. 
It was certainly a smaller place than up-stairs, but I was more 
comfortable, and was not continually taken hold of and pulled 
about by children as I had been. I received just as much 
good food as ever, and even better. I had my own cushion, 
and there was a stove, the finest thing in the world at this 
season. I went under the stove, and could lie down quite 
beneath it. Ah! I still sometimes dream of that stove. 
Away! away!” 


] 


THE SNOW MAN. AOI 


“Does a stove look so beautiful?” asked the Snow Man. 
“Ts it at all like me?” 

“It’s just the reverse of you. It’s as black as a crow, and 
has a long neck and a brazen drum. It eats firewood, so that 
the fire spurts out of its mouth. One must keep at its side 
or under it, and there one is very comfortable. You can see 
it through the window from where you stand.” 

And the Snow Man looked and saw a bright, polished thing 
with a brazen drum, and the fire gleamed from the lower part 
of it. The Snow Man felt quite strangely ;:an odd emotion 
came over him; he knew not what it meant, and could not 
account for it; but all people who are not snow men know 
the feeling. 

“And why did you leave her?” asked the Snow Man, for 
it seemed to him that the stove must be of the female sex. 
“ How could you quit such a comfortable place? ” 

“JT was obliged,” replied the Yard Dog. “They turned 
me out-of-doors, and chained me up here. I had bitten the 
youngest young master in the leg, because he kicked away 
the bone I was gnawing. ‘Bone for bone,’ I thought. They 
took that very much amiss, and from that time I have been 
fastened to a chain and have lost my voice. Don’t you hear 
how hoarse Iam? Away! away! I can’t talk any more like 
other dogs. Away! away! that was the end of the affair.” 

But the Snow Man was no longer listening to him. He 
was looking in at the housekeeper’s basement lodging, into 
the room where the stove stood on its four iron legs, just the 
same size as the Snow Man himself. 

“What a strange crackling within me!” he said. “ Shall 
I ever get in there? It is an innocent wish, and our innocent 
wishes are certain to be fulfilled. I must go in there and 
lean against her, even if I have to break through the window.” 

“You'll never get in there,” said the Yard Dog; “and if 
you approach the stove you'll melt away — away !” 

‘“‘T am as good as gone,” peed the Snow Man. “TI think 
I am breaking up.” | 

The whole day the Snow rea stood looking in through the 
window. In the twilight hour the room became still more 


inviting: from the stove came a mild gleam, not like the sun 
26 


402 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


nor like the moon ; no, it was only as the stove can glow 
when he has something to eat. When the room door opened 
the flame started out of his mouth ; this was a habit the stove 
had. ‘The flame fell distinctly on the white.face of the Snow 
Man, and gleamed red upon his bosom. 

“T can endure it no longer,” said he; “how beautiful it 
looks when it stretches out its tongue !” 

The night was long; but it did not appear long to the 
Snow Man, who stood there lost in his own charming reflec- 
tions, crackling with the cold. 

In the morning the window-panes of the basement lodging 
were covered with ice. They bore the most beautiful ice 
flowers that any snow man could desire ; but they concealed 
the stove. The window-panes would not thaw ; he could not 
see the stove, which he pictured to himself as a lovely female. 
It crackled and whistled in him and around him ; it was just 
the kind of frosty weather a snow man must thoroughly enjoy. 

But he did not enjoy it ; and, indeed, how could he enjoy 
himself when he was stove-sick ? 

‘“ That’s a terrible disease for a Snow Man,” said the Yard 
Dog. “I have suffered from it myself, but I got over it. 


- Away! away!” he barked ; and he added, “the weather is 


going to change.” | 

And the weather did change; it began to thaw. The 
warmth increased, and the Snow Man decreased. He made 
no complaint — and that’s an infallible sign. 

One morning he broke down. And, behold, where he had 
stood, something like a broomstick remained sticking up out 
of the ground. It was the pole around which the boys had 
built him up. 

“Ah! now I can understand why he had such an intense 
longing,” said the Yard Dog. -“ Why, there’s a shovel for 
cleaning out the stove fastened to the pole. The Snow Man 
had a stove-rake in his body, and that’s what moved within 
him. Now he has got over that, too. Away! away!” 

And soon they had got over the winter. 

“ Away! away!” barked the hoarse Yard Dog: but the 
girls in the house sang: —<_ 


Se 


, a ae a a 


THE SNOW MAN. 


* Green thyme! from your house come out ; 
Willow, your woolly fingers stretch out ; 
Lark and cuckoo, cheerfully sing, 

For in February is coming the spring ; 
And with the cuckoo I'll sing too, 
Come thou, dear sun, come out, cuckoo!” 


And nobody thought any more of the Snow Man. 


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THE NIGHTINGALE. 


N China, you must know, the Emperor is a Chinaman, and 

all whom he has about him are Chinamen too. It happened 
a good many years ago, but that’s just why it’s worth while to 
hear the story. before it is forgotten. ‘The Emperor’s palace 
was the most splendid in the world ; it was made entirely of 
porcelain, very costly, but so delicate and_ brittle that one had 
to take care how one touched it. In the garden were to be 
seen the most wonderful flowers, and to the costliest of them 
silver bells were tied, which sounded, so that nobody should 
pass by without noticing the flowers. Yes, everything in the 
Emperor’s garden was admirably arranged. .And it extended 
so far, that the gardener himself did not know where the end 
was. If a man went on and on, he came into a glorious forest 
with high trees and deep lakes. The wood extended straight 
down to the sea, which was blue and deep ; great ships could 
sail to and fro beneath the branches of the trees; and in 
the trees lived a nightingale, which sang so splendidly that 
even the poor Fisherman, who had many other things to do, 


THE NIGHTINGALE. A405 


stopped still and listened, when he had gone out at night te 
throw out his nets, and heard the Nightingale. 

“‘ How beautiful that is!” he said ; but he was obliged to 
attend to his property, and thus forgot the bird. But when in 
the next night the bird sang again, and the Fisherman heard 
it, he exclaimed again, “ How beautiful that is!” 

From all the countries of the world travellers came to the 
city of the Emperor and admired it, and the palace, and the 
garden, but when they heard the Nightingale, they said, 
“That is the best of all!” 

And the travellers told of it when they came home ; and 
the learned men wrote many books about the town, the pal- 
ace, and the garden. But they did not forget the Nightingale ; 
that was placed highest of all; and those who were poets 
wrote most magnificent poems about the Nightingale in the 
wood by the deep lake. 

The books went through all the world, and a few of them 
once came to the Emperor. He sat in his golden chair, and. 
read, and read: every moment he nodded his head, for it 
pleased him to peruse the masterly descriptions of the city, 
the palace, and the garden. ‘“ But the Nightingale is the best 
of all!” —it stood written there. 

“What’s that?” exclaimed the Emperor. “I don’t know 
the Nightingale at all! Is there such a bird in my empire, 
and even in my garden? I’ve never heard of that. To think 
that I should have to learn such a thing for the first time from 
books !” 

And hereupon he called his Cavalier. This Cavalier was so 
grand that if any one lower in rank than himself dared to 
speak to him, or to ask him any question, he answered noth- 
ing but “ P!”— and that meant nothing. 

“There is said to be a wonderful bird here called a Night- 
ingale!” said the Emperor. “They say it is the best thing 
in all my great empire. Why have I never heard anything 
about it?” 

“T have never heard him named,” replied the Cavalier. 
“ He has never been introduced at court.” 

“T command that he shall appear this evening, and sing 
before me,” said the Emperor. “ All the world knows what I 
possess, and I do not know it myself!” 


406 ANDERSEN'S WONDER STORIES. 


“TJ have never heard him mentioned,” said the Cavalier. “I 
will seek for him. I will find him.” 

But where was he to be found? The Cavalier ran up and 
down all the staircases, through halls and passages, but no one 
among all those whom he met had heard talk of the Nightin- 
gale. And the Cavalier ran back to the Emperor, and said 
that it must be a fable invented by the writers of books. 

“Your Imperial Majesty cannot believe how much is writ- 
ten that is fiction, besides something that they call the black 
art.” 

“But the book in which I read this,” said the Emperor, 
“was sent to me by the high and mighty Emperor of Japan, 
and therefore it cannot be a falsehood. I will hear the Night- 
ingale! It must be here this evening! It has my imperial 
favor ; and if it does not come, all the court shall be tram- 
pled upon after the court has supped ! ” 

“Tsing-pe !” said the Cavalier ; and again he ran up and 
down all the staircases, and through all the halls and corri- 
dors ; and half the court ran with him, for the courtiers did 
not like being trampled upon. 

Then there was a great inquiry after the wonderful Night- 
ingale, which all the world knew excepting the people at 
court. 

At last they met with a poor little girl in the kitchen, who 
said, — 

“The Nightingale? I know it well; yes, it can sing glori- 
ously. Every evening I get leave to carry my poor sick 
mother the scraps from the table. She lives down by the 
strand, and when I get back and am tired, and rest in the 
wood, then I hear the Nightingale sing. And then the water 
comes into my eyes, and it is just as if my mother kissed 
mer" 

“Little Kitchen Girl,” said the Cavalier, “I will get you a 
place in the kitchen, with permission to see the Emperor dine, 
if you will lead us to the Nightingale, for it is announced for 
this evening.” 

So they all went out into the wood where the Nightingale 
was accustomed to sing; half the court went forth. When 
they were in the midst of their journey a cow began to low. 


( 


THE NIGHTINGALE. 407 


“()!” cried the court pages, “ now we have it! That shows 
a wonderful power in so small a creature! I have certainly 
heard it before.” 

“No, those are cows lowing!” said the little Kitchen Girl. 
“We are a long way from the place yet.” 

Now the frogs began to croak in the marsh. : 

“Glorious !”’ said the Chinese Court Preacher. “ Now. I 
hear it — it sounds just like little church bells.” 

‘No, those are frogs!” said the little Kitchen-maid. “ But 
now I think we shall soon hear it.” 

And then the Nightingale began to sing. 

i hatisat! “exclaimed the little Girl. ‘Listen, listen! and 
yonder it sits.” 

And she pointed to a little gray bird up in the boughs. 

“Ts it possible?”’ cried the Cavalier. “I should never have 
thought it looked like that! How simple it looks! It must 
certainly have lost its color at seeing such grand people 
around.” 

“Little Nightingale!” called the little Kitchen-maid, quite 
loudly, “our gracious Emperor wishes you to sing before 
him.” 

“With the greatest pleasure!” replied the Nightingale, and 
began to sing most delightfully. 

“Tt sounds just like glass bells!” said the Cavalier. “ And 
look at its little throat, how it’s working! It’s wonderful that 
we should never have heard it before. That bird will bea 
great success at court.” 

Shall I sing once more before the Emperor?” asked the 
Nightingale, for it thought the Emperor was present. 

“ My excellent little Nightingale,” said the Cavalier, “ I have 
great pleasure in inviting you to a court festival this evening, 
when you shall charm his Imperial Majesty with your beauti- 
ful singing.” 

“My song sounds best in the greenwood!” replied the 
Nightingale ; still it came willingly when it heard what the 
Emperor wished. ~ 

The palace was festively adorned. The walls and the floor- 
ing, which were of porcelain, gleamed in the rays of thousands 
of golden lamps. The most glorious flowers, which could 


408 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


ring clearly, had been placed in the passages. ‘There was a 
running to and fro, and a thorough draught, and all the bells 
rang so loudly that one could not hear one’s self speak. 

In the midst of the great hall, where the Emperor sat, a 
golden perch had been placed, on which the Nightingale was 
to sit. The whole court was there, and the little Cook-maid 
had got leave to stand behind the door, as she had now re- 
ceived the title of a real court cook. All were in full dress, 
and all looked at the little gray bird, to which the. Emperor 
nodded. 

And the Nightingale sang so gloriously that the tears came 
into the Emperor’s eyes, and the tears ran down over his 
cheeks ; and then the Nightingale sang still more sweetly, 
that went straight to the heart. The Emperor was so much 
pleased that he said the Nightingale should have his golden 
slipper to wear round its neck. But the Nightingale declined 
this with thanks, saying it had already received a sufficient 
reward. 

“‘T have seen tears in the Emperor’s eyes —that is the real 
treasure to me. An emperor’s tears have a peculiar power. I 
am rewarded enough!” And then it sang again with a sweet, 
glorious voice. 

“That’s the most amiable coquetry I ever saw!” said the la- 
dies who stood round about, and then they took water in their 
mouths to gurgle when any one spoke to them. They thought 
they should be nightingales too. And the lackeys and cham- 
bermaids reported that they were satisfied too; and that was 
saying a good deal, for they are the most difficult to please. 
In short, the Nightingale achieved a real success. 

It was now to remain at court, to have its own cage, with 
liberty to go out twice every day and once at night. ‘Twelve 
servants were appointed when the Nightingale went out, each 
of whom had a silken string fastened to the bird’s leg, which’ 
they held very tight. There was really no pleasure in an 
excursion of that kind. . 

The whole city spoke of the wonderful bird, and when two 
people met, one said nothing but “ Nightin,’ and the other 
said “gale}” and then they sighed, and understood one 
another. Eleven peddlers’ children were named after the bird; 
but not one of them could sing a note. 


THE NIGHTINGALE. 409 


One day the Emperor received a large parcel, on which was 
written “The Nightingale.” 

“There we have a new book about this celebrated bird,” 
said the Emperor. 

But it was not a book, but a little work of art, contained in 
a box, an artificial nightingale, which was to sing like a nat- 
ural one, and was brilliantly ornamented with diamonds, 
rubies, and sapphires. So soon as the artificial bird was 
wound up, he could sing one of the pieces that he really sang, 
and then his tail moved up and down, and shone with silver 
and gold. Round his neck hung a little ribbon, and on that 
was written, “The Emperor of China’s Nightingale is poor 
compared to that of the Emperor of Japan.” 

“That is capital!” said they all, and he who: had brought 
the artificial bird immediately received the title, Imperial 
Head-Nightingale-Bringer. 

“Now they must sing together ; what a duet that will be!” 

And so they had to sing together ; but it did not sound very 
well, for the real Nightingale sang in its own way, and the 
artificial bird sang waltzes. 

“‘That’s not his fault,” said the Play-master ; “he’s quite 
perfect, and very much in my style.” 

Now the artificial bird was to sing alone. He had just 
as much success as the real one, and then it was much hand- 
somer to look at —it shone like bracelets and breastpins. 

Three-and-thirty times over did it sing the same piece, and 
yet was not tired. The people would gladly have heard it 
again, but the Emperor said that the living Nightingale ought 
to sing something now. But where was it? No one had 
noticed that it had flown away out of the open window, back 
to the greenwood. 

“‘ But what is become of that?” said the Emperor. 

And all the courtiers abused the Nightingale, and declared 
that it was a very ungrateful creature. 

“ We have,the best bird, after all,” said they. 

And so the artificial bird had to sing again, and that was 
thé thirty-fourth time that they listened to the same piece. 
For all that they did not know it quite by heart, for it was so 
very difficult. And the Play-master praised the bird partic- 


410 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


ularly ; yes, he declared that it was better than a nightingale, 
not only with regard to its plumage and the many beautiful 
diamonds, but inside as well. 

“For you see, ladies and gentlemen, and, above all, your 
Imperial Majesty, with a real nightingale one can never cal- 
culate what is coming, but in this artificial bird everything is 
settled. One can explain it; one can open it, and make peo- 
ple understand where the waltzes come from, how they go, 
and how one follows up another.” 

“Those are quite our own ideas,” they all said. 

And the speaker received permission to show the bird to 
the peopie on the next Sunday. The people were to hear it 


sing too, the Emperor commanded ; and they did hear it, and 


were as much pleased as if they had all got tipsy upon tea, 
for that’s quite the Chinese fashion ; and they all said, “O!” 
and held up their forefingers and nodded. But the poor Fish- 
erman, who had heard the real Nightingale, said, — 

“It sounds pretty enough, and the melodies resemble each 
other, but there’s something wanting, though I know not 
what!” 

The real Nightingale was banished from the country and 
empire. The artificial bird had its place on a silken cushion 
close to the Emperor’s bed ; all the presents it had received, 
gold and precious stones, were ranged about it ; in title it had 
advanced to be the High Imperial After-Dinner-Singer, and in 
rank, to number one on the left hand ; for the Emperor con- 
sidered that side the most important on which the heart is 
placed, and even in an emperor the heart is on the left side ; 
and the Play-master wrote a work of five-and-twenty volumes 
about the artificial bird ; it was very learned and very long, 
full of the most difficult Chinese words ; but yet all the people 
declared.that they had read it, and understood it, for fear of 
being considered stupid, and having their bodies trampled on. 

So a whole year went by. The Emperor, the court, and all 
the other Chinese knew every little twitter in the artificial bird’s 
song by heart. But just for that reason it pleased them best 
—they could sing with it themselves, and they did so. The 
street boys sang, “Tsi-tsi-tsi-glug-glug!” and the Emperor 
himself sang it too. Yes, that was certainly famous. 


” 


SSNS EAS 
Se SS 


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4 


«THE NIGHTINGALE. 4 De 3 


But one evening, when the artificial bird was singing its best, 
and the Emperor lay in bed listening to it, something inside 
the bird said, “ Whizz!” Something cracked. ‘“ Whir-r-r!” 
All the wheels ran round, and then the music stopped. 

The Emperor immediately sprang out of bed, and caused 
his body physician to be called ; but what could Ze do? Then 
they sent for a watchmaker, and after a good deal of talking 
and investigation, the bird was put into something like order ; 
but the Watchmaker said that the bird must be carefully treat- 
ed, for the barrels were worn, and it would be impossible to 
put new ones in in such a manner that the music would go. 
There was a great lamentation; only once ina year was it 
permitted to let the bird sing, and that was almost too much. 
But then the Play-master made a little speech, full of heavy 
words, and said this was just as good as before —and so of 
course it was as good as before. 

Now five years had gone by, and a real grief came upon the 
whole nation. The Chinese were really fond of their Em- 
peror, and now he was ill, and could not, it was said, live much 
lJonger. Already a new Emperor had been chosen, and the 
people stood out in the street and asked the Cavalier how their 
old Emperor did. 

“P!” said he, and shook his head. 

Cold and pale lay the Emperor in his great gorgeous bed ; 
the whole court thought him dead, and each one ran to pay 
homage to the new ruler. The chamberlains ran out to talk it 
over, and the ladies’-maids had a great coffee party. All 
about, in all the halls and passages, cloth had been laid down 
so that no footstep could be heard, and therefore it was quiet 
there, quite quiet. But the Emperor was not dead yet: stiff and 
pale he lay on the gorgeous bed with the long velvet curtains 
and the heavy gold tassels ; high up, a window stood n, and 
the moon shone in upon the Emperor and the artificial bird. 

The poor Emperor could scarcely breathe ; it was just as if 
something lay upon his chest: he opened his eyes, and then he 
saw that it was Death who sat, upon his chest, and had put on 
his golden crown, and held in one hand the Emperor’s sword, 
and in the other his beautiful banner. And all around, from 
among the folds of the splendid velvet curtains, strange heads 


ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


peered forth ; a few very ugly, the rest quite lovely and mild. 
_.These were all the Emperor’s bad and good deeds, that stood 
before him now that Death sat upon his heart. 

“Do you remember this? ” whispered one to the other. ‘ Do 
you remember that?” and then they told him so much that the 
perspiration ran from his forehead. 

‘1 did not know that!” said the Emperor. “ Music! music! 
the great Chinese drum!” he cried, “so that I need not hear 
all they A he 

And*they continued speaking, and Death nodded like a 
Chinaman to all they said. 

*“« Music! music!” cried the Emperor. ‘“ You little precious 
golden bird, sing, sing! I have given you gold and costly 
presents ; I have even hung my golden slipper around your 
neck — sing now, sing!” 

But the bird stood still ; no one was there to wind him up, 
and he could not sing without that ; but Death continued to 
stare at the Emperor with his great hollow eyes, and it was 
quiet, fearfully quiet. 

Then there sounded from the window, suddenly, the most 
lovely song. It was the little live Nightingale, that sat out- 
side onaspray. It had heard of the Emperor’s sad plight, 
and had come to sing to him of comfort and hope. And as it 
sang the spectres grew paler and paler ; the blood ran quicker 
and more quickly through the Emperor’s weak limbs ; and even 
Death listened, and said, — 

“Go on, little Nightingale, go on!” 

But will you give me that splendid golden sword? Will 
you give me that rich banner? Will you give me the Em- 
peror’s crown?” 3 

And Death gave up each of these treasures for a song. And 
the Nightingale sang on and on; and it sang of the. quiet 
church-yard where the white roses grow, where the elder-blos- 
som smells sweet, and where the fresh grass is moistened by 
the tears of survivors. Then Death felt a longing to see his 
garden, and floated out at the window in the form of a cold, 
white mist. 

“Thanks! thanks!” said the Emperor. “You heavenly 
little bird! I know you well. I banished you from my coun- 


THE NIGHTINGALE. AIS 


try and empire, and yet you have charmed away the evil faces 
from my couch, and banished Death from my heart! How 
can I reward you?” 

“You have rewarded me!” replied the Nightingale. “I 
have drawn tears from your eyes, when I sang the first time— 
I shall never forget that. Those are the jewels that rejoice a 
singer’s heart. But now sleep and grow fresh and strong again. 
I will sing you something.” 

And it sang, and the Emperor fell into a sweet slumber. 
Ah! how mild and refreshing that sleep was! The sun shone 
upon him through the windows, when he awoke refreshed and 
restored ; not one of his servants had yet returned, for they all 
thought he was dead ; only the Nightingale still sat beside him 
and sang. 

“You must always stay with me,” said the Emperor. “ You 
shall sing as you please ; and I’ll break the artificial bird into 
a thousand pieces.” 

“Not so,” replied the Nightingale. “It did well as long as 
it could ; keep it as you have done till now. I cannot build my 
nest' in the palace to dwell in it, but let me come when I feel 
the wish ; then I will sit in the evening on the spray yonder by 
the window, and sing you something, so that you may be glad 
and thoughtful at once. I will sing of those who are. happy 
and of those who suffer. I will sing of good and of evil that 
remain hidden round about you. The little singing bird flies 
far around, to the poor fisherman, to the peasant’s roof, to 
every one who dwells far away from you and from your court. 
I love your heart more than your crown, and yet the crown 
has an air of sanctity about it. I will come and sing to you— 
but one thing you must promise me.” 

“ Everything!” said the Emperor ; and he stood there in his 
imperial robes, which he had put on himself, and pressed the 
sword which was heavy with gold to his heart. 

“One thing I beg of you: tell no one that you have a little 
bird who telis you everything. Then it will go all the better.” 

And the Nightingale flew away. 

The servants came in to look to their dead Emperor, and — 
yes, there he stood, and the Emperor said “Good morning!” 


41 6 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


THE SILVER SHILLING. 


HERE was once a shilling. He came out quite bright 

from the mint, and sprang up, and sang out, “ Hurrah! 
now I’m off into the wide world.” And into the wide world 
he certainly went. 

The child held him with soft, warm hands; the miser 
clutched him in a cold, avaricious palm ; the old man turned 
him goodness knows how many times before parting with 
him ; while careless youth rolled him lightly away. The 
Shilling was of silver, and had very little copper about him: 
he had been now a whole year in the world — that is to say, 
in the country in which he had been struck. But one day 
he started on his foreign travels ; he was the Jast native coin 
in the purse borne by his travelling master. The gentleman 
was himself not aware that he still had this coin until he 
came across it by chance. ; 

“Why, here’s a shilling from home left to me,” he said. 
“Well, he can make the journey with me.” 

And the Shilling rattled and jumped for joy as it was 
thrust back into the purse. So here it lay among strange 
companions, who came and went, each making room for a 
successor ; but the Shilling from home always remained in 
the bag ; which was a distinction for it. 

Several weeks had gone by, and the Shilling had travelled 
far out into the world without exactly knowing where he was, 
though he learned from the other coins that they were French 
or Italian. One said they were in such and such a town, 
another that they had reached such and such a spot; but the 
Shilling could form no idea of all this. He who has his head 
in a bag sees nothing ; and this was the case with the Shil- 
ling. But one day, as he lay there, he noticed that the purse 
was not shut, and so he crept forward to the opening, to take 
a look around. He ought not to have done so ; but he was 
inquisitive, and people often have to pay for that. He slipped 
out into the fob ; and when the purse was taken out at night 
the Shilling remained behind, and was sent out into the pas- 


WIE SILVER SHILLING. 417 


sage with the clothes. There he fell upon the floor: no one 
heard it, no one saw it. 

Next morning the clothes were carried back into the room ; 
the gentleman put them on, and continued his journey, while 
the Shilling remained behind. The coin was found, and was 
required to go into service again, so he was sent out with 
three other coins. 

“Tt is a pleasant thing to look about one in the world,” 
thought the Shilling, “ and to get to know strange people and 
foreign customs.” 

And now began the history of the Shilling, as told by him- 
self. 

“¢ Away with him! he’s bad — no use.’ These words went 
through and through me,” said the Shilling. “I know I 
sounded well and had been properly coined. The people 
were certainly mistaken. They could not mean me. But, 
yes, they did mean me: I was the one of whom they said, 
‘He’s bad —he’s no good.’ ‘I must get rid of that fellow 
in the dark,’ said. the man who had received me; and I was 
passed at night, and abused in the daytime. ‘ Bad—no 
good !’ was the cry: ‘we must make haste and get rid of 
him.’ 

“And I trembled in the fingers of the holder each time I 
was to be secretly passed on as a coin of the country. 

“What a miserable shilling I am! Of what use is my 
silver to me, my value, my coinage, if all these things are 
looked on as worthless? In the eyes of the world one has 
only the value the world chooses to put upon one. It must 
be terrible indeed to have a bad conscience, and to creep 
along on eyil ways, if I, who am quite innocent, can feel so 
badly because I am only thought guilty. 

“ach time I was brought out I shuddered at the thought 
of the eyes that would look at me, for I knew that I should 
be rejected and flung back upon the table, like an impostor 
and a cheat. Once I came into the hands of a poor old 
woman, to whom I was paid for a hard day’s work, and she 
could not get rid of me at all. No one would accept me, and 
I was a perfect worrit to the old Dame. 

“““T shall certainly be forced to deceive some one with 

| 27 


‘shilling.’ oe. 


418 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


this shilling,’ she said ; ‘for, with the best will in the world, 
I can’t hoard up a false shilling. The rich baker shall have 
him ; he will be able to bear the loss —but it’s wrong in me 
to th it, after all.’ 

“¢ And I must lie heavy on that woman’s conscience too,’ 
sighed I. ‘Am [I really so much changed in my old age ?’ 

‘“* And the Woman went her way to the rich baker ; but he 
knew too well what kind of shillings would pass to take me, 
and he threw me back at the Woman, who got no bread for 


' me. And I felt miserably low to think that I should be the 


cause of distress to others —I who had been in my young 
days so proudly conscious of my value and of the correctness 
of my mintage. I became as miserable as a poor shilling 
can be whom no one will accept; but the Woman took me 
home again, and looked at me with a friendly, hearty face, 
and said, — 

“No, I will not deceive any one with thee. I will bore a 
hole through thee, that every one may see thouvart a false thing. 
And yet—Jit just occurs to me—perhaps this is a lucky 
shilling ; and the thought comes so strongly upon me that I 
am sure it must be true! -I will make a hole through the 
shilling, and pass a string through the hole, and hang the 
coin round the neck of my neighbor’s little boy for a lucky 

sO she bored a hole through me. It is certainly not 
agreeable to have a hole bored through one ; but many things 
can be borne when the intention is abs A thread was 


- passed through the hole, and I became a kind of medal, and 


was hung round the neck of the little child ; and the child 
smiled at me, and kissed me, and [I slept all night on its 
warm, innocent neck. 

“When the morning came, the child’s mother took me up 
in her fingers and looked at me, and she had her own 
thoughts about me —I could feel that very well. She brought 
out a pair of scissors, and cut the string through. 

“A lucky shilling!’ she said. ‘ Well, we shall soon see 
that.’ 

‘And she laid me in vinegar, so that I turned quite green. 
Then she plugged up the hole, and carried me, in the evening 


THE SILVER SAILLING. 419 


twilight, to the lottery collector, to buy a lottery ticket that 
should bring her luck. | 

“How miserably wretched I felt! There was.a stinging 
feeling in me as if I should crumble to bits. I knew that I 
should be called false and thrown down—and before a 
crowd of other shillings and coins, too, who lay there with an 
image and superscription of which they might be proud. But 
I escaped that disgrace, for there were many people in the 
collector’s room —he had a great deal to do, and I went 
rattling down into the box among the other coins. Whether 
my ticket won anything or not I don’t know; but this I do 
know, that the very next morning I was recognized as a bad 
shilling, and was sent out to deceive and deceive again. 
That is a very trying thing to bear when one knows one has 
a good character, and of that I am conscious. 

“For a year and a day I thus wandered from house to 
house and from hand to hand, always abused, always unwel- 
come: no one trusted me ; and I lost confidence in the world 
and in myself. It was a heavy time. At last, one day a trav- 
eller, a strange gentleman, arrived, and I was passed to him, 
and he was polite enough to accépt me for current coin ; but 
he wanted to pass me on, and again I heard the horrible cry, 
‘No use — false !’ 

“¢T received it as a good coin,’ said the man, and he looked 
closely at me: suddenly he smiled all over his face ; and I 
had never seen that expression before on any face that looked 
at me. ‘Why, what ever is that?’ he said. ‘That’s one of 
our own country coins, a good honest shilling from my home, 
and they’ve bored a hole through him, and they call him false. 
Now, this is a curious circumstance. JI must keep him and 
take him home with me.’ 

“ A glow of joy thrilled through me when I heard myself 
called a good honest shilling ; and now I was to be taken 
home, where each and every one would know me, and be’sure 
that I was real silver and properly coined. I could have 
thrown out sparks for very gladness ; but, after all, it’s not 
in my nature to throw out sparks, for that’s the property of 
steel, not of silver. 

‘“‘T was wrapped up in clean white paper, so that I should 


420 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


not be confounded with the other coins, and spent ; and on 
festive occasions, when fellow-countrymen met together, I was 
shown about, and they spoke very well of me: they said I 
was interesting — and it is wonderful how interesting one can 
be without saying a single word. 

“ And at last I got home again. All my troubles were 
ended, joy came back to me, for I was of good silver, and 
had the right stamp, and I had no more disagreeables to 
endure, though a hole had been bored through me, as through 
a false coin: but that does not matter if one is not really 
false., One must wait for the end, and one will be righted at 
last — that’s my belief,” said the Shilling. 


ui) 
Ray) 


i A 
VAC 
\ wh f 


e 


THE NAUGHTY BOY. 


HERE was once an old poet —a very good old poet. 
One evening, as he sat at home, there was very bad 
weather without. The rain streamed down ; but the old poet 
sat comfortably by his stove, where the fire was burning and 
the roasting apples hissing. 

“There won’t be a dry thread left on the poor people who 
are out in this weather!” said he, for he was a good old poet. 

“QO, open to me! I’m cold and quite wet,” said a little 
child outside ; and it cried, and knocked at the door, while 
the rain streamed down, and the wind made all the casements 
rattle. 

“You poor little creature!’ said the Poet ; and he went to 
open the door. There stood a little boy ; he was quite naked, 
and the water ran in streams from his long fair curls. Hewas 
shivering with cold, and had he not been let in, he would cer- 
tainly have perished in the bad weather. 

“ Vou little creature!” said the Poet, and took him by the 
hand, “‘come to me, and I will warm you. You shall have 
wine and an apple, for you are a capital boy.” 

And so he was. His eyes sparkled like two bright stars, 
and though the water ran down from his fair curls, they fell in 
beautiful ringlets. He looked like a little angel-child, but was 


Wo? ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


white with cold, and trembled all-over. In his hand he car- 
ried a famous bow, but it looked quite spoiled by the wet ; all 
the colors in the beautiful arrows had been blurred together 
by the rain. 

The old Poet sat down by the stove, por the little Boy on 
his knees, pressed the water out of the long curls, warmed his 
hands in his own, and made him some sweet wine-whey ; then 
the Boy recovered himself, and his cheeks grew red, and he 
jumped to the floor, and danced round the old Poet. 

“You are a ee! boy,” said the old Poet. “ What is your 
name?” : 

“My name is Love,” he replied ; “don’t you know me? 
There lies my bow —I shoot with that, you may believe me! 
See, now the weather is clearing up outside, and the moon 
shines.” 

‘“‘But your bow is quite spoiled,” said the good old Poet. 

“That would be a pity,” replied the little Boy ; and he took 
~ the bow and looked at it. “O, it is quite dry, and has suffered 
no damage ; the string is quite stiff—I will try it!” Then 
he bent it, and laid an arrow across, aimed, and shot the good 
old Poet straight through the heart. ‘ Do you see now that 
my bow was not spoiled?” said he, and laughed out loud and 
ran away. What a naughty boy, to shoot at the old Poet in 
that way, who had admitted him into the warm room, and been 
so kind to him, and given him the best wine and the best 


apple ! 
The good Poet lay upon the floor and wept; he was really 
shot straight into the heart. “Fie!” he cried, “what a 


naughty boy this Love is! I shall tell that to all good chil- 
dren, so that they may take care and never play with him, for 
he will do them a hurt !” 

All good children, girls and boys, to whom he told this, took 
good heed of this naughty Love; but still he tricked them, 
for he is very cunning. When ie students come out from the 
lectures, he runs at their side with a book under his arm, and 
has a black coat on. They cannot recognize him atall. And 
then they take his arm, and fancy he is a student too ; but he 
thrusts the arrow into their breasts. Yes, he is always follow- 
ing people! He sits in the great chandelier in the theatre, 


~ 


THE NAUGHTY BOY. eit ay ete: 


and burns brightly so that the people think he is a lamp ; but 
afterwards they see their error. He runs about in the palace 
garden and on the promenades. Yes, he once shot your 
father and your mother straight through the heart! Only ask 
them, and you will hear what they say. O, he is a bad boy, 
this Love ; you must never have anything to do with him. 
He is after every one. Only think, once he shot an arrow at 
old grandmamma ; but that was a long time ago. ‘The wound 
has indeed healed long since, but she will never forget it. 
Fie on that wicked Love! But now you know him, and what 
a naughty boy he is, 


424 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


IT OAL: 


HE well was deep, and so the rope was long, and the 

wheel went heavily round, before one could hoist the 
bucket over the side of the well. The sun could not see its 
face in the water, however brightly it shone ; but as far as it 
could shine there were green weeds growing between the 
stones. . 

A family of the toad race dwelt here. They were emigrants ; 
indeed, they had all come plump down in the person of the 
old toad-mother, who was still alive. The green frogs who 
swam in the water, had been at home here ever so much longer, 
but they acknowledged their cousins, and called them the 
‘“ well-guests.” The latter, however, had no thoughts of ever ~ 
flitting ; they made themselves very comfortable here on the 
dry land, as they called the wet stones. 

Dame Frog had once travelled, riding in the bucket as it 
went up; but the light was too much for her, and gave her 
spasm in the eyes; luckily she got out of the bucket. She 
fell with a frightful splash in the water, and lay up for three 
days with the back-ache. She had not much to tell about the 
upper world, but one thing she did know, and so did all the 
others now, — that the well was not the whole world.. Dame 
Toad might have told them a thing or two more, but she never 
answered any questions, and so they left off asking any. 

“ Nasty, ugly, squat, and fat she is!” said the young Green 
Frogs ; “and her brats are getting just like her.” 

‘“‘Maybe so!” said Dame Toad, “but one of them has a 
jewel in its head, or else I have it myself.” 

The Green Frogs listened and stared, and as they did not 
like to hear that, they made faces and went to the bottom. 
But the young Toads stretched their hind-legs out of sheer — 
pride. Each of them thought it had the jewel, and so they 
all kept their heads quite still ; but at last they began to ask 
what sort of a thing they had to be proud of, and what a jewel 
was exactly. 

“It is something so splendid and so precious,’ said Dame 


THE TOAD. Ae 5 


Toad, “that I cannot describe it; it is something that one 
wears to please one’s self, and that others fret to death after. 
But don’t ask questions ; I shan’t answer them.” 

“Well, I have not got the jewel,” said the smallest Toad, 
which was as ugly as ugly could be. ‘“ How should I have 
anything so splendid? and if it vexed others, why, it could 
not please me. No; all I want is to get up to the well-side, 
and have one peep out ; that would be glorious !” 

“ Better stay where you are,” said the old one. “ Here you 
are at home, and you know what it’s like. Keep clear of the 
bucket, or it may squash you. And even if you get safe into 
it, you may fall out again, and it is not every one that can fall 
so luckily as I did, and keep legs and eggs all safe and 
sound.” 

“ Quack!” said the little one ; and that means the same as 
when we men say “ Alack !” 

It did so long to get up to the well-side, and look out ; it 
felt quite a yearning after the green things up yonder. And 
so, next morning, as the bucket was going up, when it hap- 
pened to stop for an instant before the stone where the Toad 
sat, the little creature quivered through and through, and 
edged into the bucket. It sank to the bottom of the water; 
which was presently drawn up and poured out. 

“ Phuh, botheration !” said the man, when he saw it; “it is 
the ugliest I have ever seen.” He kicked with his wooden 
shoe at the Toad, which was near being crippled, but managed 
to escape into the middle of some tall stinging-nettles. It 
saw stalks side by side around it, and it looked upward too. 
The sun shone on the leaves; they were quite transparent. 
For the Toad it was the same as it is for us men when we 
come all at once into a great forest, where the sun is shining 
between leaves and branches. 

“Tt is much prettier here than down in the well! One 
might well stop here for one’s whole life-time,” said the little 
Toad. It lay there one hour, it lay there two. “ Now I won- 
der what there is outside ; as I have gone so far, I may as well 
go further.” And it crawled as fast as it could crawl, till it 
came out into the full sunshine, and got powdered with dust, 
as it marched across a high road. 


A2 6 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


“ This is something like being on dry land,” said the Toad. 
“T am Bee almost too much of a good thing ; it tickles 
right into me.” 

Now it came toa ditch; the forget-me-not grew here, and 
the meadow-sweet ; beyond it was a hedge of white-thorn and 
elder-bushes, and the convolvulus crept and hung about it. 
Here were fine colors to be seen! And yonder flew a butter- 
fly. The Toad thought that it was a flower which had broken 
loose, in order to look about it in the world; it really seemed 
so very natural. 

“Tf one could only get along like that!” = the Toad. 
“Quack — alack, O how glorious!” 

For eight days and nights it lingered by the ditch, and felt 
no want of food. The ninth day it thought, “ Further — for- 
ward!” But was there anything more beautiful to be found 
then? perhaps a little toad, or some green frogs ; there had 
been a sound in the wind last night, as if there were “ cousins” 
in the neighborhood. 

“Tt is a fine thing to live! to come up out of the well; to lie 
in stinging-nettles ; to creep along a dusty road ; and to rest 
in a wet ditch! But forward still! let us find out frogs or a 
little toad ; one cannot do without them, after all ; nature, by 
itself, is not enough for one!” And so it set out again on its 
wanderings. 

It came to a field and a large pond, with rushes round it ; it 
took a look inside. 

‘It is too wet for you here, isn’tit? ” said the Frogs, “but 
you are quite welcome. Are you a he or a she? —not that it 
matters, you are welcome all the same.” 

And so it was invited to a concert in the evening — a fam- 
ily concert, great excitement and thin voices! we all know that 
sort of thing. ‘There were no refreshments, except drink ; 
but that was free to all — the whole pond, if they pleased. 

“Now I shall travel further,” said the little pag: It was 
always craving after something better. 

It saw the stars twinkle, so large and so clear ; it saw the 
new moon shine ; it saw the sun rise higher and higher. 

“T think I am still in the well, in a larger well: I must get 
higher up! I feel a restlessness, a longing!” And when the 


TEE LOA LS, 427 


moon had grown full and round, the poor creature thought, 
“Can ¢hat be the bucket which is being let down, and which I 
must pop into if I wish to get higher up? Or is the sun the 
great bucket? How great it is, and how beaming! It could 
hold all of us together. I must watch for my opportunity. 
What a brightness in my head! Ido not believe that the jewel 
can shine better. The jewel! I have it not, and shall not cry 
after it. No; higher still in glitter and gladness! I feel an 
assurance, and yet a fear ; it isa hard step to take, but it must 
be taken. Forward! right on along the high road!” 

And it stepped out as well as such a crawling creature can, 
till it came to the great thoroughfare, where the men lived. 
Here there were flower-gardens and cabbage-gardens. It turned 
aside to rest in a cabbage-garden. 

“ What a number of different beings there are, which I know 
nothing about! and how great and blessed is the world! But — 
one must keep looking about one, instead of sitting always in 
the same corner.” And so it sidled into the cabbage-garden. 
“ How green it is here! how pretty it is here!” 

“That I know well enough,” said the Caterpillar, on the 
leaf. ‘“‘ My leaf is the largest here ; it covers half the world 
— but as for the world, I can do without it.” 

“Cluck! cluck!” said somebody, and fowls came tripping 
into the cabbage-garden. ‘The foremost hen was long-sighted ; 
she spied out the worm on the curly leaf, and pecked at it, so 
that it fell to the ground, where it lay twisting and turning. 
The Hen looked first with one eye and then with the other, for 
she could not make out what was to be the end of all this 
wriggling. 

“Tt does not do this of its own accord,” thought the Hen, 
and lifted her head for a finishing stroke. The Toad grew so 
frightened, that it crawled right up against the Hen. 

“So it has friends to fight for it,” said she ; “just look at the 
crawler!” and the Hen turned tail. “I shan’t trouble myself 
about the little green mouthful ; it only gives one a tickling in 
the throat.” ‘The other fowls were of the same opinion, and 
away they went. 

““T have wriggled away from her,” said the Caterpillar ; “it 
is good to have presence of mind, but the hardest task remains, 
to get up on to my cabbage-leaf. Where is it?” 


428 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


And the little Toad came forward and expressed its sympa- 
thies. It was glad of its own ugliness, that had frightened 
away the Hen. 

“What do you mean by that?” asked the Caterpillar. “I 
got rid of her myself, I tell you. You are very unpleasant to 
look at! Mayn’t I be allowed to get back into myown? Now 
I smell cabbage. Now I am near my leaf. ‘There is nothing 
so beautiful as what is one’s own. I must go higher up still.” 

“Ves, higher up! ”.said the little Toad, “higher up! it feels 
just as I feel ; but it is not in good humor to-day; that comes 
of the fright. We all wish to get higher up.” And it looked 
up as high as it could. 

The stork sat in his nest on the farmer’s roof; he clattered, 
and the stork-mother clattered. 

“How high they live,” thought the Toad. “ Pity that one 
can’t get up there !” 

There were two young students lodging in the farm-house ; 
one of them was a poet, the other a naturalist. The one sang 
and wrote in gladness of all that God had created, even as its 
image was reflected in his heart ; he sang it out short and 
clear, and rich in resounding verses. The other took hold of 
the thing itself; aye, and split it up, if necessary. He treated 
our Lord’s creation like some vast piece of arithmetic ; sub- 
tracted, multiplied, wished to know it outside and inside, and 
to talk of it with reason ; nothing but reason; and he talked 
of it in gladness too, and cleverly. They were good, glad- 
hearted men, both of them. 

“ Yonder sits a fine specimen of a toad,” said the Natural- 
ist ; “I must have it in spirit.” 

“You have two already,” said the Poet. ‘Let it sit in 
peace, and enjoy itself.” 

‘But it is so beautifully ugly!” said the other. 

“Ves, if we could find the jewel in its head,” said the Poet, 
“ then I myself might lend a hand in splitting it up.” | 

“The jewel!” said the other. “ Much you know about nat- 
ural history !” | 

“But is there not something very fine, at least, in the pop- 
ular belief that the toad, the ugliest of creatures, often hides 
in its head the most precious of all jewels? Is it not much 


’ 


LEI ATOAD: 429 


the same with men? Was there not such a jewel hidden in 
sop, and Socrates too?” 

The Toad heard nothing more ; and even so far it did not 
understand half of it. The two friends went on, and it es- 
caped being put into spirit. 

“They were talking about the jewel, too,” said the Toad. 
“T am just as well without it; otherwise I should have got 
into trouble.” 

There was a clattering upon the farmer’s roof. Father 
Stork was delivering a lecture to his family, while they all 
looked down askant at the two young men in the cabbage- 
garden. 

“Man is the most conceited of creatures,” said the Stork. 
“Hark, how they are going on — clatter, clatter — and yet they 
cannot rattle off a regular tattoo. ‘They puff themselves up 
with notions of their eloquence —their language. A rare lan- 
guage indeed ; it shifts from one jabber to another, at every 
day’s journey. Our language we can talk the whole world over, 
whether in Denmark or in Egypt. As for flying, they can’t 
manage it at all. ‘They push along by means of a contrivance 
which they call a ‘railway,’ but there they often get their necks 
broken. It gives me the shivers in my bill when I think of it. 
The world can exist without men. What good are they to us? 
All that we want are frogs and earth-worms.” 

“That was a grand speech now,” thought the little Toad. 
“What a great man he is, and how high he sits ; higher than 
I have ever seen any one before ; and how well he can swim,” 
it exclaimed, as the Stork took flight through the air with out- 
stretched wings. 

And Mother Stork talked in the nest. She told of the land 
of Egypt, of the water of the Nile, and of the first-rate mud 
that was to be found in foreign parts ; it sounded quite fresh 
and charming in the ears of the little Toad. ; 

“I must go to Egypt,” it said. “O, if the Stork would only 
give me a lift; or one of the young ones might take me. I 
would do the youngster some service in my turn, on his wed- 
ding-day.* I am sure I shall get to Egypt, for I am so lucky ; 
and all the longing and the yearning which I feel ; surely, this 
is better than having a jewel in one’s head.” 


430 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


And it had it—the true jewel; the eternal longing and 
yearning to go upward, ever upward. ‘This was the jewel, 
and it shone within it, shone with gladness and beamed with 
desire. 

At that very moment came the Stork. He ea seen the Toad 
in the grass, and he swooped down and took hold of the little 
creature, not over tenderly. ‘The bill pinched ; the wind whis- 
tled ; it was not quite comfortable. But still it was going up- 
aa and away to Egypt, it knew ; and that was why its eyes 
glittered, till it seemed as if a ane flew out of them. 

“ Quack — ack!” 

The body was dead, the Toad was killed. But the spark 
out of its eyes, what became of ¢hat? 

The sunbeam took it; the sunbeam bore away the jewel 
from the head of the ‘Toad. Whither? 

You must not ask the Naturalist ; rather ask the Poet. He 
will tell it you as a fairy tale ; and the Caterpillar will take a 
share in it, and the Stork family will take a share in it. Think, 
the Caterpillar will be changed, and become a beautiful butter- 
fly! The Stork family will fly over mountains and seas far 
away to Africa, and yet find the shortest way home again to 
the Danish land, to the same spot, to the same roof! Yes, it 
is all nearly too much like a fairy tale —and yet it is true. 
You may fairly ask the Naturalist about the truth of it ; he will 
admit ¢ha¢, and, indeed, you know it yourself, for you have 
seen it. 

But the jewel in the Toad’s head? Look for it in the sun ; 
look a¢ it if you can. 

The splendor is too strong. We have not yet eyes that can 
look into all the glories which God hath revealed ; but some 
day we shall have them, and that will be the Toe beautiful 
fairy tale of all, for we ourselves shall take a share in it. 


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THE STORKS. 


N the last house in a little village stood a stork’s nest. 

The Mother Stork sat in it with her four young ones; 
who stretched out their heads with the pointed black beaks, 
for their beaks had not yet turned red. A little way off stood 
the Father Stork, all alone on the ridge of the roof, quite up- 
right and stiff; he had drawn up one of his legs, so as not 
to be quite idle while he stood sentry. One would have 
thought he had been carved out of wood, so still did he stand. 
He thought, “It must look very grand, that my wife has a 
sentry standing by her nest. They can’t tell that it is her 
husband. They certainly think I have been commanded to 
stand here. ‘That looks so aristocratic!” And he went on 
standing on one leg. 

Below in the street a whole crowd of children were playing ; 
and when they caught sight of the Storks, one of the boldest 
of the boys, and afterwards all of them, sang the old verse 
about the Storks. But they only sang it just as he could 
remember it : — 


“ Stork, stork, long-legged stork ; 
Off to thy home I prithee walk. 
Thy. dear wife is in the nest, 
Where she rocks her young to rest. 


432 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


“The first he will be hanged, 
The second will be hit, | 
The third he will be shot, 
And the fourth put on the spit.” 

“Just hear what those boys are saying!” said the little 
Stork children. “They say we’re to be hanged and killed.” 

“Vou’re not to care for that!” said the Mother Stork. 
“ Don’t listen to it, and then it won’t matter.” 

But the boys went on singing, and pointed at the Storks 
mockingly with their fingers ; only one boy, whose name was 
Peter, declared. that it was a sin to make a jest of animals, 
and he would not join in it at all. 

The Mother Stork comforted her children. “Don’t you 
mind it at all,” she said ; “see how quiet your father stands, 
though it’s only on one leg.” 

“We are very much afraid,” said the young Storks; and 
they drew their heads far back into the nest. 

Now to-day, when the children came out again to play, and 
saw the Storks, they sang their song, — 

“The first he will be hanged, 
The second will be hit.” 

“Shall we be hanged and beaten?” asked the young 
Storks. 

“ No, certainly not,” replied the mother. ‘You shall learn 
to fly ; I'll exercise you ; then we shall fly out into the mead- 
ows and pay a visit to the frogs ; they will bow before us in 
the water, and sing ‘Co-ax! co-ax!’ and then we shall eat 
them up. That will be a real pleasure.” 

“ And what then?” asked the young Storks. 

“Then all the Storks will assemble, all that are here in 
the whole country, and the autumn exercises begin: then 
one must fly well, for that is highly important, for whoever 
cannot fly properly will be thrust dead by the general’s beak ; 
so take care and learn well when the exercising begins.” 

“‘ But then we shall be killed, ae the boys mah —and only 
listen, now they’re singing again.” 

“ Listen to me, and not to them,” said the Mother Stork. 
“ After the great review we shall fly away to the warm coun- 
tries, far away from here, over mountains and forests. We 


THE STORKS. — 433 


shall fly to Egypt, where there are three covered houses of 
stone, which curl in a point and tower above the clouds ; they 
are called pyramids, and are older than a stork can imagine. 
There is a river in that country which runs out of its bed, and 
then all the land is turned to mud. One walks about in the 
mud, and eats frogs.” 

“O!” cried all the young ones. 

“Yes! It is glorious there! One does nothing all day 
long but eat; and while we are so comfortable over there, 
here there is not a green leaf on the trees ; here it is so cold 
that the clouds freeze to pieces, and fall down in little white 
rags !” 

It was the snow that she meant, but she could not explain 
it in any other way. 

“And do the naughty boys freeze to pieces?” asked the 
young Storks. 

“No, they do not freeze to pieces; but they are not far 
from it, and must sit in the dark room and cower. You, on 
the other hand, can fly about in foreign lands, where there are 
flowers, and the sun shines warm.” 

Now some time had elapsed, and the nestlings had grown 
so large that they could stand upright in the nest and look far 
around ; and the Father Stork came every day with delicious 
frogs, little snakes, and all kinds of stork-dainties as he found 
them. O! it looked funny when he performed feats before 
them! He laid his head quite back upon his tail, and clap- 
ped with his beak as if he had been a little clapper ; and then 
he told them stories, all about the marshes. 

“ Listen!’ now you must learn to fly,” said the Mother 
Stork one day ; and all the four young ones had to go out on 
the ridge of the roof. O, how they tottered! how they bal- 
anced themselves with their wings, and yet they were nearly 
falling down. | 

“Only look at me,” said the mother. “Thus you must 
hold your heads!. Thus you must pitch your feet! One, two! 
one, two! That’s what will help you on in the world.” 

Then she flew a little way, and the young ones made a little 
clumsy leap. Bump!—there they lay, for their bodies were 


too heavy. 
28 


434 ANDERSEN'S WONDER STORIES. 


“T will not fly!” said one of the young Storks, and crept 
back into the nest. “I don’t care about getting to the warm 
countries.” 

“Do you want to freeze to death here, when the winter 
comes? Are the boys to come and hang you, and singe you, 
and roast you? Now I'll call them.” 

“Ono!” cried the young Stork, and hopped out on to the 
roof again like the rest. 

On the third day they could actually fly a little, and then 
they thought they could also soar and hover in the air. They 
tried it, but —— bump !— down they tumbled, and they had to 
shoot their wings again quickly enough. Now the boys came 
into the street again and sang their song, — 


“Stork, stork, long legged stork!” 


‘€ Shall we fly down and pick their eyes out?” asked the 
young Storks. 

“‘No,” replied the mother, “let them alone. Only listen to 
me ; that’s far more important. One, two, three !— now we fly 
round to the right. One, two, three !— now to the left round 
the chimney! See, that was very good! the last kick with 
the feet was so neat and correct that you shall have permis- 
sion to-morrow to fly with me to the marsh! Several nice Stork 
families go there with their young: show them that mine are 
the nicest, and that you can start proudly ; that looks well, 
and will get you consideration.” 

“But are we not to take revenge on the rude boys?” asked 
the young Storks. 

“Let them scream as much as they like. You will fly up 
to the clouds, and get to the land of the pyramids, when they 
will have to shiver, and not have a green leaf or a sweet 
apple.” . 

“Ves, we will revenge ourselves!” they whispered to one 
another ; and then the exercising went on. 

Among all the boys down in the street, the one most bent 
upon singing the teasing song was he who had begun it, and 
he was quite a little boy. He could hardly be more than six 
years old. The young Storks certainly thought he was a 
hundred, for he was’ much bigger than their mother and 


THE STORKS. #435 


father ; and how should they know how old children and 
grown-up people can be! Their revenge was to come upon 
this boy, for it was he who had begun, and he always kept on. 
The young Storks were very angry ; and as they grew bigger 
they were less inclined to bear it: at last their mother had to 
promise them that they should be revenged, but not till the 
last day of their stay. 

“We must first see how you behave at the grand review. 
If you get through badly, so that the general stabs you 
through the chest with his beak, the boys will be right, at 
least in one way. Let us see.” 

“Yes, you shall see!” cried the young Storks ; and then 
they took all imaginable pains. ‘They practiced every day, 
and flew so neatly and so lightly that it was a pleasure to see 
them. 

Now the autumn came on; all the Storks began to assem- 
ble, to fly away to the warm countries while it is winter here. 
That was areview. ‘They had to fly over forests and villages, 
to show how well they could soar, for it was a long journey 
they had before them. ‘The young Storks did their parts so 
well that they got as a mark, “ Remarkably well, with frogs 
and snakes.” That was the highest mark ; and they might 
eat the frogs and snakes ; and that is what they did. 

“‘ Now we will be revenged !” they said. 

“Yes, certainly!” said the Mother Stork. “What I have 
thought of will be the best. I know the pond in which all 
the little mortals lie till the stork comes and brings them to 
their parents. The pretty little babies lie there and dream so 
sweetly as they never dream afterwards. All parents are 
glad to have such a child, and all children want to have a 
sister or a brother. Now we will fly to the pond, and bring 
one for each of the children who have not sung the naughty 
song and laughed at the Storks.” 

“But he who began to sing,—that naughty, ugly boy!” 
screamed the young Storks ; “ what shall we do with him?” 

“There is a little dead child in the pond, one that has 
dreamed itself to death ; we will bring that for him. ‘Then he 
will cry because we have brought him a little dead brother. 
But that good boy—you have not forgotten him, the one 


436 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


who said, ‘It is wrong to laugh at animals !’—for him we will 
bring a brother and a sister too, And as his name is Peter, 
all of you shall be called Peter too.” ) 

And it was done as she said ; all the Storks were named 
Peter, and so they are all called even now. 


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THE NIS AND THE DAME. 437 


THE NIS AND THE DAME. 


OU have all heard of the Nis, but have you ever heard 

of the Dame, — the Gardener’s Dame? She had plenty 

of reading ; knew verses by heart ; aye, and could write them 

herself with ease ; except that the rhymes, “clinchings,” as 

she called them, cost her a little trouble. She had gifts of 

writing, and gifts of speech ; she could well have been priest, 
or, at all events, the priest’s wife. 

“The earth is beauteous in her Sunday gown,” said she, 
and this thought she had set in regular form and “clinch- 
ing ;” set it up in a ditty, that was ever so fine and long. 

The Under-schoolmaster, Mr. Kisserup (not that it matters 
about his name), was a cousin of hers, and on a visit at the 
Gardener’s ; he heard the Dame’s poem, and it did him good, 
he said —a world of good. ‘You have soul, ma’am!”’ said 
he. 

“‘ Fiddle-de-dee!” said the Gardener. “ Don’t be putting 
such stuff in her head. Soul indeed! a wife should be a 
body, a plain, decent body, and watch the pot to see that the 
porridge is not burnt.” 

“The burnt taste I can take out of the porridge with a 
little charcoal,” said the Dame, “and out of you with a little 
kiss. One might fancy you thought of nothing but greens 
and potatoes ; and yet you love the flowers ;” and so saying, 
she kissed him. ‘“ Flowers are all soul!” said she. 

“Mind your porridge-pot,” said he, and went off into the 
garden. ‘This was his porridge-pot, and this he minded. 

But the Under-schoolmaster sat in the Dame’s parlor, and 
talked with the Dame. Her fine words, “ Earth is beau- 
teous,” he made the text of a whole sermon, after his own 
fashion. 

“Earth is beauteous, make it subject unto you! was said, 
and we became the lords. Some rule it with the mind, others 
with the body. This man is sent into the world like an incor- 
porate note of admiration ! that man like a dash of hesitation: 
we pause, and ask, Why is he here? One of us becomes 


43 8 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


a bishop; another only a poor under-master ; but all is for 
the best. Earth is beauteous, and always in her Sunday 
gown! That was a thought-stirring poem, ma’am; full of 
feeling and cosmography !” : 

“Vou have soul, Mr. Kisserup,” said the Dame, “a great 
deal of soul, I assure you. One gains clearness of perception 
by talking with you.” 

And so they went on in the same strain, as grand and 
excellent as ever. But out in the kitchen there was some- © 
body else talking ; and that was the Nis, the little gray-jack- 
eted Nis with his red cap — you know him. The Nis sat in 
the kitchen, playing the pot-watcher. He talked, but nobody 
heard him except the great black tom-cat, “‘ Cream-thief,” as 
the Dame called him. 

The Nis was snarling at her, because she did not believe 
in his existence, he found: true, she had never seen him ; 
but still, with all her reading, she ought to have known he 
did exist, and have shown him some little attention. She 
never thought, on Christmas Eve, of setting so much as a 
spoonful of porridge for him ; though all his forefathers had 
got this, and from dames, too, who had had no reading at all: 
their porridge used to be swimming with cream and butter. 
It made the cat’s mouth water to hear of it. 

“She calls me az zdea /” said the Nis: “ that’s quite beyond 
the reach of my ideas. In fact, she denies me. I’ve caught 
her saying so before, and again just now, yonder, where she 
sits droning to that boy-whipper, that understrapper. I say 
with Daddy, ‘ Mind your porridge-pot.’ That she doesn’t do: 
so now for making it boil over.” 

And the Nis puffed at the fire till it burned and blazed. 
“‘ Hubble — bubble — hish !” the pot boiled over. 

“And now for picking holes in Daddy’s sock,” said the 
Nis. “Tl unravel a long piece, from toe to heel ; so there’ll 
be something to darn when she’s not too busy poetizing. 
Dame poetess, please darn Daddy’s stockings.” 

The Cat sniggered and sneezed ; he had caught cold some- 
how, though he always went in furs. 

“T’ve unlatched the larder-door,” said the Nis. ‘ There’s 
clotted cream there as thick as gruel. If you won’t have a 
lick, Z will.” 


? 


THE NIS AND THE DAME. 439 


“Tf I am to get all the blame and beating,” said the Cat, 
“T’ll have my share of the cream.” 

“‘ A sweet lick is worth a kick!” said the Nis. “ But now 
Ill be off to the Schoolmaster’s room, hang his braces on the 
looking-glass, put his socks in the water-jug, and make him 
believe that the punch has set his brain spinning. Last night 
I sat on the woodstack by the kennel. I dearly love to bully 
the watch-dog ; so I swung my legs about in front of him. 
His chain was so short he could not reach them, however 
high he sprang: he was furious, and went on bark-barking, 
and I went on dingle-dangling ; that was rare sport! School- 
master awoke, and jumped up, and looked out three times ; 
but he couldn’t see me, though he Aad got barnacles on; he 
sleeps in his barnacles.” 

“Say mew, if Dame is coming,” said the Cat; “I am hard 
of hearing: I feel sick to-day.” 

“You have the licking sickness,” said the Nis ; “lick away: 
lick the sickness away. Only be sure to wipe your beard, 
that the cream mayn’t hang on it. Now I'll go fora bit of 
eavesdropping.” 

And the Nis stood behind the door, and the door stood 
ajar. ‘There was no one in the parlor except the Dame and 
the Under-master. They were talking about things which — 
as the Schoolmaster finely observed — ought in every house- 
hold to rank far above pots and pans—the Gifts of the Soul. 

“Mr. Kisserup,” said the Dame, “I will now show you 
something in that line, which I have never yet shown to any 
living creature — least of all to a man—my smaller poems 
—some of which, however, are rather long. I have called 
them ‘Clinchings by a Gentlewoman.’ I cling to those old 
designations.” 

“ And so one ought,” said the Schoolmaster ; “one ought 
to root the German out of our language.” : 

“I do my best toward it,” said the Dame. “You will 
never hear.me speak of Butterdeig or Kleiner ; no, I call them 
paste-leaves and fatty-cakes.” 

And she took out of her drawer a writing-book, in a bright- 
green binding, with two blotches of ink on it. 

“There is much in the book that is earnest,” said she : “ my 


440 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


mind inclines toward the sorrowful. Here now is my ‘ Mid- 
night Sigh,’ my ‘Evening Red,’ and here ‘ When I was wed- 
ded to Klemmensen’ — my husband, you know; you may 
pass that over, though it has thought and feeling. ‘The 
Housewife’s Duties’ is the best piece — sorrowful, like all 
the rest ; I am strongest in that style. Only one single piece 
is jocular: it contains some lively thoughts —one must in- 
dulge in them now and then —thoughts about — don’t laugh 
at me—about being a poetess! It has hitherto been all 
between me and my drawer ; and now you make the third 
of us, Mr. Kisserup. Poetry is my ruling passion ; it haunts 
and worries me —it reigns over me. This I have expressed 
in my title ‘The Little Nis.’ , You know the old cottage tales 
about the Nis, who is always playing pranks in the house. I 
have depicted myself as the house, and my poetical feelings 
as the Nis, the spirit that possesses me. His power and 
strength I have sung in ‘The Little Nis ;’ but you must 
pledge me with hands and mouth never to reveal my secret, 
either to my husband or any one else. Read it aloud, so 
that I may hear whether you understand the composition.” 

And the Schoolmaster read, and the Dame listened, and 
so did the little Nis. He was eavesdropping, you know ; and 
he came up just in time to hear the title of “The Little Nis.” 

“Ho! ho!” said he; “that’s my name! what has she 
been writing about me? O, I’ll give her tit for tat ; chip her 
eggs, nip her chickens, hunt the fat off her fatted calf: fie 
upon such a Dame!” 

And he listened with pursed-up lips and pricked-up ears ; 
but as he heard of the Nis’s power and glory, and his lordship 
over the Dame (it was poetry, you know, she meant, but the 
Nis took the name literally), the little fellow began smiling 
more and more; his eyes glistened with pleasure ; then came 
lines of dignity in the corners of his mouth ; he drew up his 
heels, and stood on his toes an inch or two higher than usual ; 
he was delighted with what was said about the little Nis. 

“T have done her wrong! She is a Dame of soul and high 
breeding! She has put me into her ‘Clinchings,’ and they 
will be printed and read! No more cream for Master Cat: 
I shall let nobody touch it but myself. One drinks less than 


THE NIS AND THE DAME. A4I 


two, so that will be a saving: and ¢/a¢I shall carry out, and 
pay respect and honor to our Dame.” 

‘¢ Ah, he’s a man all over, that Nis,” said the old Cat. “Only. 
one soft mez from the Dame, a mew about himself, and he 
changes his mind in a jiffy! And that Dame of ours, isn’t 
she sly!” 

But the Dame was not sly ; it was all because the Nis was 
a man. 

If you cannot understand this story, ask somebody to help 
you ; but do not ask the Nis—no, nor yet the Dame. 


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THE NEIGHBORING FAMILIES. 


NY one might have supposed that something very 

extraordinary had happened in the duck-pond, there was 
such a commotion. All the ducks—some swimming, some 
standing in the pond with their heads downward — suddenly 
jumped on land, leaving the traces of their feet in the wet 
clay, and sending forth a loud, startled cry. The water too, 
which had hitherto been smooth as a mirror, was now troub- 
led. Just before, it had so calmly and clearly reflected every- 
thing around, — every tree, every bush, the peasant’s cottage 
with its gable-end full of holes, the swallow’s nest beneath, and 
especially the large rose-tree with its branches and flowers 
covering the wall, and hanging almost into the water, — all 
these had been painted on the clear surface and looked like a 
picture, only with every object reversed, z ¢. upside down ; but 
now that the water was troubled. colors and forms seemed to 
run into each other, and the picture was spoiled. Two feath- 
ers from the ducks’ wings, which had hitherto been calmly 
wafted hither and thither, now took flight, as though carried 
away by a gust of wind, and yet not a breath was stirring. 


THE NEIGHBORING FAMILIES. 443 


Presently they lay still, and the water also became tranquil and 
smooth, again reflecting, as before, the peasant’s gable-roof, 
the swallow’s nest, and the large rose-tree. Each single Rose 
beheld itself therein ; all were beautiful, but they knew it not, 
for no one had ever told them so. The sun shone through 
their delicate petals so full of fragrance, and every Rose felt 
just as we do when our hearts are full of untold happiness. 

‘“ How delighttul it is to live here!” said each Rose to her- 
self ; “the only thing I can find to wish for is, that I could kiss 
the sun, because he is so warm and bright. Ah, and then, too, 
the Roses down in the water! I would kiss them also ; they 
are exactly like us. And I should like to kiss those dear little 
birds in the nest just below them ; there are some others too, 
above us ; they pop out their tiny heads and twitter so prettily ; 
they have no feathers as their father and mother have. Ours 
are certainly pleasant neighbors, both above and below. O, 
how charming it is to live here!” 

Now the young birds above — those below were but the re- 
flection in the water—were sparrows. Their father and 
mother were sparrows also ; they had taken possession of the 
empty swallow’s nest the year before, and were now perfectly 
at home in it. 

“ Are those the ducks’ children swimming down there? 
asked the young Sparrows, as soon as they had spied out the 
two feathers skimming over the water. 

“Tf you must ask questions, at least let there be some sense 
in them!” returned the mother. ‘Don’t you see that they 
are feathers —live clothes, such as I wear, and as you will 
some day? Only ours are of a finer quality. I wish, how- 
ever, that we had those feathers up here in the nest, for they 
would make it warm and comfortable. I should like to know 
what it was that frightened the ducks just now! it must have 
been something in the water, for it could not be my calling to 
you, though I did say ‘ Twit!’ rather loudly. Those thick 
headed Roses might have found out what was the matter! but 
they know nothing and do nothing but look at themselves and 
scent the air. I am so heartily weary of these neighbors of 


ours !” | 
‘Listen to the sweet little birds up there!” said the Roses ; 


444 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


“they are actually trying to sing: they cannot yet, but they 
will in time ; how pleasant that must be! It is quite amusing 
to have such merry neighbors! ” 

Now came galloping up to the water two horses with a peas- 
ant boy upon one of them; the boy had taken off his outer 
garment, and wore a large broad-brimmed black hat on his 
head. He whistled as though he too had been a little bird, 
and rode through the deepest part of the pond. When he 
came up to the rose-tree he tore off one of the Roses and stuck 
it in his hat; then fancying himself very smart, off he rode 
again. The other Roses looked after their lost sister, and 
asked each other, “ Where is she gone?” but that none of 
.them knew. | 

“T should like to go out into the world,” said one of the 
Roses, “but it is very pleasant here at home in our own green 
branches. All day long the sun is so warm, and at night-time 
the sky is still more beautiful ; we can then look into those 
little holes which it is so full of.” | 

By the holes in the sky she meant the stars, for Roses know 
no better. 

“We are the life of the house!” said the mother of the Spar- 
rows, “and people say that a swallow’s nest brings luck, so 
they are glad enough to have us. But as to our neighbors, 
such a great rose-bush as that by the wall only makes the 
place damp; I think it will be rooted up soon, and then, 
perhaps, corn may grow there. Roses are good for nothing 
but for people to look at and smell, or, at most, to stick in 
their hats. And this I have heard from my mother: every 
year they fall to pieces ; the peasant’s wife collects them and 
strews salt over them; then a French name is given to 
them, which I cannot pronounce, nor care to do so, and after- 
wards they are thrown into the fire to perfume the room. 
Such is their life ; they live only to please the eyes and nose. 
Now you know all about them! ” 

As the evening advanced, and the gnats were dancing mer- 
rily in the warm atmosphere, and the clouds above looking so 
red and bright, the Nightingale came and sang to the Roses. 
He sang that beauty was like sunshine in the world, and that 
the beautiful shall live forever. But the Roses believed that 


THE NEIGHBORING FAMILIES. 445 


the Nightingale was singing about himself, which, indeed, 
might have been true. As to the song being addressed to 
them, of that they would never have thought ; still they were 
pleased with it, and wondered whether all the young Sparrows 
would not become nightingales also in due time. 

“T understand quite well what that bird was singing about,” 
said one of the young Sparrows ; “there was only one word 
that was not clear to me ; what does he mean by ‘the beauti- 
fale ae 

“Tt is nothing,” said the mother-bird ; “it is only an ap- 
pearance. At the Hall, where the doves have a house of their 
own, and pease and grains of corn are strewn for them every 
day—TI have dined with them, and so shall you some time 
or other: tell me who are thy companions, and I will tell thee 
who thou art—atthe Hall, as I said before, there are two 
birds with green necks and a tuft on their heads; they can 
spread out the tail as though it were a large wheel, and it has 
so many colors that one’s eyes are dazzled by looking at it ; 
that is ‘the beautiful.” The birds are called peacocks ; they 
should just be stripped of their feathers, and then they would 
not look different from us and everybody else. I would have 
plucked them myself, had they not been so large.” 

“ Never mind; I will pluck them, depend upon it!” said the 
youngest of the Sparrows, who had not yet a single feather of 
his own. ; 

In the cottage dwelt two young married people; they 
were cheerful and industrious, and loved each other, so every- 
thing went on pleasantly with them. On Sunday morning the 
young woman went out, gathered a handful of the loveliest 
among the roses, put them in a glass of water, and placed the 
glass upon the chest. 

“Now I can see that it is Sunday,” said the husband. He 
kissed his fair young wife, and they sat down, hand in hand, 
and read a Psalm, while the sun shone brightly through the 
windows upon the fresh roses and the happy young couple. 

“T am weary of looking at this,” said the mother of the 
Sparrows, as she peeped from her nest into the room; and 
away she flew. 

Every Sunday fresh roses were gathered to adorn the room, 


446 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


and yet the rose-tree blossomed none the less. The young 
Sparrows at last had feathers of their own, and wanted to fly 
away with their mother. But this she would not allow; so 
they were obliged to remain in the nest. And well it was for 
them that they did; for one day, not looking where she was 
going, she flew right into a net made of horse-hair, which some 
boys had fastened toa bough. ‘The net pressed so closely 
round her leg that it was almost ready to break. O what 
pain, what terror she suffered! The boys sprang forward to 
secure their prey ; their grasp was cruelly hard. “It is 
nothing but a sparrow!” said they. But they would not let 
her fly again; they took her home, and, every time she cried 
out, they struck her on the beak. 

There was an old man in the yard who used to make soap 
and sell it made up into balls and pieces for hands and 
beards —a merry, careless old fellow he was, and a merry, 
wandering life he led ; and when he saw the poor sparrow 
which the boys had caught, and which they said they did not 
care about, he said to them, “ Suppose we make the ugly bird 
beautiful!’ Mother Sparrow shivered from head to foot on 
hearing this, and she well might. Out of his box, which was 
provided with the brightest colors, the old man took a quan- 
tity of shining leaf-gold, and, having sent the boys for an egg, 
he smeared the white of it all over the bird, and then laid 
upon it the leaf-gold. Thus Mother Sparrow was gilt ; but she 
took no pleasure in her finery —her limbs shook with fear. 
And the old soap-maker tore off a piece of red cloth from his 
jacket, cut it and clipped it to look like a cock’s comb, and 
then stuck it on the poor bird’s head. 

“Now you shall see the gold bird fly,” said he, letting 
Mother Sparrow loose ; and away she flew in deadly terror. 
O how she sparkled in the sunshine! All the Sparrows, even 
a large full-grown Crow, who at her age ought to have been 
surprised at nothing, flew back quite startled and shocked at 
the unwonted sight. But they all soon returned, eager to 
discover what sort of strange bird this might be. 

“Whence, and whither? whence, and whither ? ” screamed 
the Crow. 

“Wait a bit! wait a bit!” cried the Sparrows. But she 


THE NEIGHBORING FAMILIES. A47 


would not wait ; in terror and anguish she flew homewards. 
She was ready to sink down upon the earth; and the crowd 
of birds, both small and great, increased every moment ; 
some even flew at her to peck her. “Only look! only look!” 
cried they all. 

“Only look! only look!” squeaked out the young ones, as 
she flew toward the nest. ‘“ Surely that is a young peacock, 
for peacocks are of all manner of colors ; they hurt the eyes, 
mother said. Twit! that is ‘the beautiful.’”” And then they at- 
tacked her with their little beaks, so that she could not possi- 
bly get into the nest, and she was so overcome with fright 
that she could not even say “ Twit,” far less tell them that she 
was their mother. And now all the other birds pecked her — 
not a single feather was left ; wounded and bleeding, she 
sank into the rose-bush. 

"Poor creature!” said the Roses; we will hide thee. 
Come, rest thy little head upon us.” | 

Once more the suffering bird tried to unfold her wings, then 
closed them again, and died among her neighbors— the fresh, 
lovely Roses. 

“Twit, twit!” quoth one of the young Sparrows in the 
nest; “I can’t imagine where mother is staying ; perhaps 
this is a trick of hers to teach us to shift for ourselves. She 
has left us the house for an inheritance ; but I should like to 
know which of us is to have it when we have families.” 

** Ah, I can tell you that!” said the youngest ; “I shall 
not let you all stay here when I have a mate and children of 
my own.” 

“But I shall have more wives and children than you,” said 
another. 

“But I am the eldest,” cried a third ; and then all began to 
scold, flap their wings, and peck with their beaks, till one after 
another was thrown out of the nest. There they lay full of 
anger and spite; they held their heads on one side and 
winked with their eyes: this was their fashion of sulking. 

They could already fly a little, and through practice they 
improved ; and at last, having agreed to separate, they settled 
a mode of salutation, whereby they might recognize each other 
if they should chance to meet in the wide world before them. 


448 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


This was to say “Twit,” and scrape the ground three times 
with the left leg. 

The youngest Sparrow, who remained in the nest, made him- 
self as big as he could. He was now a householder. How- 
ever, his dignity did not last long. One night, red lightning 
flashed through the window-panes, flames of fire burst forth 
from under the roof, the dry straw was immediately in a blaze, 
the house was burnt, and with it the Sparrow and his nest. 
The young married pair happily escaped. 

When the sun rose next morning, and everything seemed 
refreshed as after a gentle nightly slumber, nothing was found 
remaining of the cottage, except a few blackened beams at- 
tached to the chimney, which stood among the ruins quite its 
own master. There was a strong smell of burning all around, 
but the rose-tree flourished still as blooming as ever, and the 
peaceful water of the pond reflected every single bough and 
flower just as before. 

“How pretty those Roses look blossoming close to the 
ruined cottage!” exclaimed a passer-by. “ It is the most charm- 
ing little picture imaginable ; I must have it!” And he took 
out of his pocket a little book with blank leaves, for he was an 
artist, and sketched the blackened, smoking ground, the half- 
burnt planks, the chimney which seemed to lean on one side 
more and more every moment, as though about to fall, and, in 
the foreground, the large, beautiful rose-tree, whose beauty, 
indeed, had been the cause of the little picture being sketched. 

Later in the day, two of the former inmates of the nest 
hopped by. “Where is the cottage?” said they ; “ where is 
the nest? twit, it is all burnt, and our strong little brother is 
burnt also! that is because he turned us out of the nest. 
Those Roses have had a narrow escape; there they are still 
with their cheeks as red as ever; they care not a grain for 
their neighbors’ misfortunes, Well, I shall not speak to them, 
and this is a horrible place —that is my opinion!” And 
away they flew. 

In the course of the autumn there was one beautiful, sun- 
shiny day, — such a day as one never expects to meet with 
except in the height of summer. The court-yard in front of 
the grand flight of steps leading up to the hall-door was swept 


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THE NEIGHBORING FAMILIES. 451 


unusually dry and clean, and there flitted to and fro a multi- 
- tude of doves, — some black, some white, some violet-color ; 
their plumage glittered in the sunshine, aid the ancient and 
respectable matrons of the Dove family bustled about with 
much. stateliness, crying out to their children, “Stand in 
groups ! stand in groups!” for this was the best way of show- 
ing themselves off to advantage. 

““Who are those little gray birds, hopping about amongst 
us?” asked an old Dove with red and green eyes. “ Little 
gray birds, little gray birds!” repeated she. 

“They are Sparrows, respectable creatures ; we have always 
had the credit of being good-natured, so we allow them to pick 
up a few of our grains. ‘They never talk to us, and they scrape 
so nicely with their legs ! ” 

They did scrape ; three times they scraped with their left 
legs, and then said “Twit!” and thus they recognized each 
other ; they were, in fact, three Sparrows mont the nest in the 
roof A the burnt cottage. 

“Provisions are uncommonly good here!” said the Spar- 
rows. Meanwhile the Doves hopped round, ruffled their 
plumes, and made their private observations. 

Just look at the Crop-pigeon!” said one Dove to another ; 
“do but look at her, see how she snaps up the pease! She 
gets too many, she gets the best ; coo ! coo! look what an ugly, 


wicked creature she is; coo! coo!” And the Dove’s eyes 
sparkled with malice. ‘Join the group, join the group, little 
gray birds! little gray birds! coo! coo! coo!” And then 


their beaks went to work ; and so it will be a hundred years 
hence. 

The Sparrows ate heartily and listened attentively, nay, 
they even joined the group, but were soon weary, so they left 
the Doves to themselves, and, after indulging in a few remarks 
on their late companions, hopped under the garden-fence, and 
finding the door of the summer-house open, one of them ven- 
tured upon the threshold. ‘“ Twit,” said he ; “see what I dare 
to do!” “Twit,” said another; “I will do more!” where- 
upon he hopped into the room. Nobody was there, and the 
third Sparrow perceiving this, flew boldly in, crying out, 
“Either do a thing thoroughly, or not at all! What a ridicw 
lous human nest this is! And how is this? what do I see?” 


~ 


452 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


Plainly set before the eyes of every Sparrow were their old 
neighbors the Roses ; they mirrored themselves in the water, 
and the blackened beams of the cottage rested slantingly upon 
the falling chimney. Well might the Sparrows exclaim, “ How 
is this? how came all this in the apartments of the great?” 
And they all tried to fly over the chimney, but their wings 
were repulsed by a flat wall, for the whole scene was in reality 
a large splendid picture which the artist had made from his 
little sketch. 

“ Twit,” said the Sparrows, “it is nothing at all, it is only an 
appearance ; twit, that is ‘the beautiful!’ can you understand — 
it, for I can’t?” And they flew away, for people came into the 
room. 

Days passed, years passed, many times had the Doves cooed 
and wooed ; nay, they quarreled too, malicious birds that they 
were! The Sparrows lived luxuriously in summer, and were 
half-frozen in winter ; most of them were either betrothed or 
married ; they had young ones, and each, of course, thought 
his own the handsomest and cleverest of all the Sparrows in 
the world ; they flew hither and hither, and when they chanced 
to meet they greeted each other with a “Twit!” and three 
scrapes of the left leg. The eldest of them was now much 
advanced in years; she had lived a single life, she had neither 
nest nor young ones, and wishing once more to visit a large 
town, she one day flew to Copenhagen. 

Here she saw a large handsome house standing close by the 
palace and the canal, wherein lay vessels heavily laden with 
fruits and wine. ‘The windows of the house were wider below 
than above, and, on peeping through, every apartment ap- 
peared to Miss Sparrow’s eyes like a tulip, so rich and varied 
were the hues that adorned the walls. In the midst of all 
these gay apartments stood a number of white figures, some of 
marble, some only of plaster, but, marble or plaster, it was all 
the same to Miss Sparrow. On the roof of the house was a 
metal car, with metal horses, and the Goddess of Victory, like- 
wise of metal, guiding them. It was Thorwaldsen’s Museum. 

“ How it shines! how it shines!” quoth the ancient Spar- 
row maiden; “why, this must be ‘the beautiful.’ Twit! it is 
much larger than a peacock!” for she still remembered what 


THE NEIGHBORING FAMILIES. A53 


her mother told her formerly about the largest specimen of 
the beautiful known to her. 

And she flew down into the court; this also was splendid ; 
palm-branches and fresh green foliage were painted on the 
walls, and in the centre was a large rose-tree in full blossom, 
its fresh, green branches, laden with flowers, drooping over a 
grave — one solitary grave. 

She flew to the spot, for many other Sparrows were there ; 
“Twit!” said she, and scraped the ground three times with 
her left leg. ‘This greeting she had practiced again and again 
that year, and no one had understood it, for friends once 
parted do not meet every day ; the salute had become a mere 
matter of form: but now, to her suprise, two old Sparrows and 
one young one said “‘Twit!” in return, and likewise scraped 
with their left legs. 

“Ah, good morning, good morning Here had met to- 
gether no less than three of the old Sparrows from the swal- 
low’s nest in the cottage-roof, and one of their descendants. 
“To think that we should all meet here!” said they. ‘“‘ This 
is a very fine place, but there is not much to eat; it is ‘the 
beautiful,’ you know! Twit!” 

Several persons now came into the court from one of the 
rooms where stood the marble figures, and they went up to the 
grave which held the remains of the great master whose skill 
had formed them. 

All stood with glistening eyes round Thorwaldsen’s grave, 
and some picked up the scattered rose-leaves to carry home 
with them. There were travellers from distant lands ; from 
mighty England, from Germany, and from France; and the 
fairest lady in the company plucked one of the roses, and 
wore it near her heart. ‘This made the Sparrows believe that 
the Roses reigned here, and that this magnificent mansion had 
been built for them alone ; it seemed to them rather too much 
honor; nevertheless, as mankind was evidently so intent 
upon showing respect to the Roses, they determined to do the 
same. “‘T'wit!” said they ; and swept the ground with their 
tails, winking with one eye upon the Roses the while. Long 
did they look at them before they could quite make up their 
minds whether these Roses were or were not their old neigh- 


{7 


454 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


bors: yes, such most assuredly they were; the artist who had 
sketched the rose-bush growing near the blackened remains of 
the cottage had afterwards gained permission to transplant 
it, and had then given it to the architect of the Museum. No- 
where could roses be found more lovely or more fragrant than 
those borne by this tree, so it was planted close by Thorwald- 
sen’s grave, and there, a living symbol of the beautiful, it blos- 
somed year after year, and gave its bright-hued, delicate leaves 
to be carried away as remembrances to foreign lands. 

“So you have got an establishment in this town!” said the 
Sparrows. And the Roses nodded assent; they had recog- 
nized their neighbors and were very glad to see them. 

“How delightful it is to live and blossom here! to see old 
neighbors. Ah, I remember the time when they lived by the 
duck-pond ; twit, how droll it is that they should attain such a 
high station. Some folks come to honor while they are sleep- . 
ing. And what there is so wonderful in a great red rag like 
that I can’t think! Ah, there is a withered leaf, that I can 
Bees 

And they pecked at it till the leaf fell off ; but the tree looked 
all the fresher and greener, and the Roses gave forth their 
perfume to the sunbeams even after they had fallen on ‘Thor- 
waldsen’s grave, with whose long-enduring name the memory 
of their fleeting beauty thus became linked. | 


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THE DARNING-NEEDLE. 


HERE was once a darning-needle, who thought herself 
so fine, she imagined she was an embroidering-needle. 

“Take care, and mind you hold me tight!” she said to the 
‘Fingers that took her out. “Don’t let me fall! If I fall on 
the ground I shall certainly never be found again, for I am so 
fine!” 

“That’s as it may be,” said the Fingers ; and they grasped 
her round the body. | 

“See, ’m coming with a train!” said the Darning-needle, 
and she drew a long thread after her, but there was no knot in 
the thread. 

The Fingers pointed the needle just at the cook’s slipper, in 
which the upper leather had burst, and was to be sewn to- 
gether. 

“That’s vulgar work,” said the Darning-needle. “TI shall 
never get through. I’m breaking! I’m breaking!” And she 
really broke. “Did I not say so?” said the Darning-needle ; 
“T’m too fine!” ; 

““ Now it’s quite useless,” said the Fingers; but they were 


A56 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


obliged to hold her fast, all the same ; for the cook dropped 
some sealing-wax upon the needle, and pinned her handker- 
chief together with it in front. 

“So, now I’m a breast-pin!” said the Darning-Needle. “I 
knew very well that I should come to honor: when one is 
something, one comes to something!” 

And she laughed quietly to herself— and one can never see 
when a darning-needle laughs. ‘There she sat, as proud as if ~ 
she was in a state coach, and looked all about her. 

“May I be permitted to ask if you are of gold?” she in- 
quired of the pin, her neighbor. ‘“ You have a very pretty 
appearance, and a peculiar head, but it is only little. You 
must take pains to grow, for it’s not every one that has seal- 
ing-wax dropped upon him.” 

And the Darning-needle drew herself up so proudly that 
she fell out of the handkerchief right into the sink, which the 
cook was rinsing out. ! : 

“Now we’re going on a journey,” said the Darning-needle. 
“Tf I only don’t get lost!” 

But she really was lost. 

“‘T’m too fine for this world,” she observed, as she lay in 
the gutter. ‘ But I know who I am, and there’s always some- 
thing in that!” 

So the Darning-needle kept her proud behavior, and did 
not lose her good humor. And things of many kinds swam 
over her, chips and straws and pieces of old newspapers. 

“Only look how they sail!” said the Darning-needle. 
“They don’t know what is under them! I’m here, I remain 
firmly here. See, there goes a chip thinking of nothing in the 
world but of himself—of achip! ‘There’s a straw going by 
now. How he turns! how he twirls about! Don’t think only 
of yourself, you might easily run up against a stone. ‘There 
swims a bit of newspaper. What’s written upon it has long 
been forgotten, and yet it gives itself airs. I sit quietly and 
patiently here. I know who I am, and I shall remain what I 
am.” ; 3 } 
One day something lay close beside her that‘glittered splen- 
didly ; then the Darning-needle believed that it was a dia- 
mond; but it was a bit of broken bottle; and because it 


THE DARNING-NEEDLE. 457 


shone, the Darning-needle spoke to it, introducing herself as 
a breast-pin. 

“‘T suppose you are a diamond ?” she observed. 

“Why, yes, something of that kind.” 

And then each believed the other to be a very valuable 
thing; and they began speaking about the world, and how 
very conceited it was. | 

“T have been in a lady’s box,” said the Darning-needle, 
‘and this lady was a cook. She had five fingers on each hand, 
and I never saw anything so conceited as those five fingers, 
And yet they were only there that they might take me out of 
the box and put me back into it.” 

“Were they of good birth?” asked the Bit of Bottle. 

“No, indeed” replied the Darning-needle, “but very 
haughty. ‘There were five brothers, all of the finger family. 
They kept very proudly together, though they were of different 
lengths: the outermost, the thumbling, was short and fat; he 
walked out in front of the ranks, and only had one joint in his 
back, and could only make a single bow; but he said that if 
he were hacked off a man, that man was useless for service in 
war. Daintymouth, the second finger, thrust himself into 
sweet and sour, pointed to sun and moon, and gave the im- 
pression when they wrote. Longman, the third, looked at all 
the others over his shoulder. Goldborder, the fourth, went 
about with a golden belt round his waist ; and little Playman 
did nothing at all, and was proud of it. There was nothing 
but bragging among them, and therefore I went away.” 

“ And now we sit here and glitter!” said the Bit of Bottle. 

At that moment more water came into the gutter, so that it 
overflowed, and the Bit of Bottle was carried away. 

“So he is disposed of,” observed the Darning-needle. “I 
remain here, I am too fine. But that’s my pride, and my pride 
is honorable.” And proudly she sat there, and had many 
great thoughts. “I could almost believe I had been born of 
a sunbeam, I’m so fine! It really appears as if the sunbeams 
were always seeking for me under the water. Ah! I’m so 
fine that my mother cannot find me. If I had my old eye, 
which broke off, I think I should cry; but, no, I should not 
do that: it’s not genteel to cry.” 


45 8 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


One day a couple of street boys lay grubbing in the gutter, 
where they sometimes found old nails, farthings, and similar 
treasures. It was dirty work, but they took great delight in it. — 

“QO!” cried one, who had pricked himself with the Darning- 
needle, “ there’s a fellow for you!” 

“T’m not a fellow; I’m a young lady!” said the Darning- 
needle. 

But nobody listened to her. ‘The sealing-wax had come off, 
and she had turned black; but black makes one look slender, 
and she thought herself finer even than before. 

“Here comes an egg-shell sailing along!” said the boys ; 
and they stuck the Darning-needle fast in the egg-shell. 

“White walls, and black myself! that looks well,” remarked 
the Darning-needle. ‘“ Now one can see me. I only hope I 
shall not be seasick!” But she was not seasick at all. “It 
is good against seasickness, if one has a steel stomach, and 
does not forget that one is a little more than an ordinary per- 
son! Now my seasickness is over. The finer one is, the 
more one can bear.”’ 

“Crack!” went the egg-shell, for a wagon went over her. 

“Good heavens, how it crushes one!” said the Darning- 
needles “I’m getting seasick now, — I’m quite sick.” 

But she was not really sick, though the wagon went over 
her ; she lay there at full length, and there she may lie. 


Ke a 
B99 4 (nN 


THE HAPPY FAMILY. 


HE biggest leaf here in the country is certainly the bur- 

dock leaf. Put one in front of your waist and it’s just like 
an apron, and if you lay it upon your head it is almost as good 
as an umbrella, for it is quite remarkably large. A burdock 
never grows alone ; where there is one tree there are several 
more. It’s splendid to behold! and all this splendor is snails? 
meat, — the great white snails, which the grand people in old 
times used to have made into fricassees ; and when they had 
eaten them they would say, “ H’m, how good that is!” for they 
had the idea that it tasted delicious. These snails lived on 
burdock leaves, and that’s why burdocks were sown. 

Now there was an old estate, on which people ate snails no 
longer. The snails had died out, but the burdocks had not. 
These latter grew and grew in all the walks and on all the 
beds — there was no stopping them: the place became a com- 
plete forest of burdocks. Here and there stood an apple or 
plum tree ; but for this, nobody would have thought a garden 
had been there. Everything was burdock, and among the 
burdocks lived the two last ancient snails. 

They did not know themselves how old they were, but they 
could very well remember that there had been a great many © 


460 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


more of them ; that they had descended from a foreign family, 
and that the whole forest had* been planted for them and 
theirs. ‘They had never been away from home, but it was 
known to them that something existed in the world called the 
manor-house, and that there one was boiled, and one became 
black, and was laid upon a silver dish; but what was done 
afterward they did not know. Moreover, they could not im- 
agine what that might be, being boiled and laid upon a silver 
dish; but it was stated to be fine, and particularly grand! 
Neither the cockchafer, nor the toad, nor the earth-worm, whom 
they questioned about it, could give them any information, for 
none of their own kind had ever been boiled and laid on silver 
dishes. 

The old white snails were the grandest in the world ; they 
knew that! The forest was there for their sake, and the manor- 
house too, so that they might be boiled and laid on silver 
dishes. 

They led a very retired and happy life, and as they themselves 
were childless, they had adopted a little common snail, which 
they brought up as their own child. But the little thing would 
not grow, for it was only a common snail, though the old peo- 
ple, and particularly the mother, declared one could easily see 
how he grew. And when*the father could not see it, she 
requested him to feel the little snail’s shell, and he felt it, and 
acknowledged that she was right. 

One day it rained very hard. 

“Listen, how it’s drumming on the burdock leaves, rum- 
dum-dum ! rum-dum-dum !” said the Father Snail. 

“That’s what I call drops,” said the mother. ‘ It’s coming 
straight down the stalks. You'll see it will be wet here di- 
rectly. I’m only glad that we have our good houses, and that 
the little one has his own. There has been more done for us 
than for any other creature ; one can see very plainly that we 
are the grand folks of the world! We have houses from our 
birth, and the burdock forest has been -planted for us: I 
should like to know how far it extends, and what lies beyond 
it,” 

“There’s nothing,” said the Father Snail, “that can be 
better than here at home ; I have nothing at all to wish for.” 


THE HAPPY FAMILY. 461 


“Ves,” said the mother, “I should like to be taken to the 
manor-house and boiled and laid upon a silver dish ; that has 
been done to all our ancestors, and you may be sure it’s quite 
a distinguished honor.” 

“The manor-house has perhaps fallen in,” said the Father 
Snail, “or the forest of burdocks may have grown over it, so 
that the people can’t get out at all. You need not be ina 
hurry — but you always hurry so, and the little one is begin- 
ning just the same way. Has he not been creeping up that 
stalk these three days? My head quite aches when I look up 
at him.” 

“Vou must not scold him,” said the Mother Snail. “He 
crawls very deliberately. We shall have much joy in him; 
and we old people have nothing else to live for. But have 
you ever thought where we shall get a wife for him? Don’t 
you think that farther in the wood there may be some more 
of our kind?” : 

“There may be black snails there, I think,” said the old 
man, — “black snails without houses! but they’re too vulgar. 
And they’re conceited, for all that. But we can give the com- 
mission to the ants: they run to and fro, as if they had busi- 
ness ; they’re sure to know of a wife for our young gentle- 
man.” 

“T certainly know the most beautiful of brides,” said one of 
the Ants; “but I fear she would not do, for she is the 
Queen!” 

“That does not matter,” said the two old Snails. “ Has 
she a house? ” 

“She has a castle!” replied the Ant, — “the most beauti- 
ful ant’s castle, with seven hundred passages.” 

“Thank you,” said the Mother Snail ; “our boy shall not 
go into an ant-hill. If you know of nothing better, we’ll give 
the commission to the white gnats ; they fly far about in rain 
and’ sunshine, and they know the burdock wood, inside and 
outside.” 

“We have a wife for him,” said the Gnats. “ A hundred 
man-steps from here a little snail with a house is sitting on a 
gooseberry-bush ; she is quite alone, and old enough to marry. 
It’s only a hundred man-steps from here.” 


462 ANDERSEN'S WONDER STORIES. 


“Ves, let her come to him,” said the old people. “ He has 
a whole burdock forest, and she has only a bush.” 

And so they brought the little maiden snail. Eight days 
passed before she arrived, but that was the rare circumstance 
about it, for by this one could see that she was of the right 
kind. 

' And then they had a wedding, Six glow-worms lighted 
as well as they could: with this exception it went very qui- 
etly, for the old snail people could not bear feasting and dis- — 
sipation. But a capital speech was made by the Mother Snail. 
- The father could not speak, he was so much moved. Then 
they gave the young couple the whole burdock forest for an 
inheritance, and said, what they had always said, namely, — 
that it was the best place in the world, and that the young 
people, if they lived honorably, and increased and multiplied, 
would some day be taken with their children to the manor- 
house, and boiled black, and laid upon a silver dish. And 
when the speech was finished, the old people crept into their 
houses and never came out again, for they slept. 

The young snail pair now ruled in the forest, and had a 
numerous progeny. But as the young ones were never boiled 
and put into silver dishes, they concluded that the manor- 
house had fallen in, and that all the people in the world had 
died out. And as nobody contradicted them, they must have 
been right. And the rain fell down upon the burdock leaves 
to play the drum for them ; and the sun shone to color the 
burdock forest for them ; and they were happy, very happy — 
the whole family was happy, uncommonly happy! 


THE SUMMER-GOWK. 463 


THE SUMMER-GOWK.! 


EEP lay the snow, for it was winter time, the air was 

cold, the wind sharp: but within doors all was snug and 
warm. And within doors lay the flower; in its bulb it lay, 
under earth and snow. 

One day there fell rain ; the drops trickled through the snow 
coverlet, down into the earth, and stirred against the flower- 
bulb, telling of the world of light above. And presently a 
sunbeam, pointed and slender, came piercing its way to the 
bulb, and tapped on it. 

“Come in,” said the Flower. 

“That I can’t,” said the Sunbeam: “I am not strong 
enough to lift the latch. I shall be strong in summer.” 

“ When will it be summer?” asked the Flower ; and it asked 
this again, whenever a sunbeam pierced down to it. But sum- 
mer was still far away: the ground was covered with snow, and 
every night there was ice on the water. 

“‘ How long it is! how long it is!” said the Flower. “I feel 
quite cribbed and cramped. I mus? stretch myself: I must 
raise myself: I mst lift the latch and look out, and nod good- 
morrow to the summer ; and that will be a merry time!” 

And the Flower rose and strained from within, against the 
thin shell that had been softened by the rain, warmed by the 
earth and snow, and tapped upon by the sunbeam. — It shot 
up from under the snow, with a pale-green bud on its. tender 
stalk, and narrow thick leaves, that curled around it for a 
screen. The snow was cold, but glittering with light, and 
easy enough to push through: and here came the sunbeams 
with greater strength than before. 


1 Sommere’ ojek (meaning summer-dupfe) is a Danish name for the snow--_ 
drop. Among ourselves, gowk and gawky (like Gauch in German) are ~ 
common provincial terms for a cuckoo, or for a fool. ‘In the north of — 


England,” says Brand (in his Popular Antiquities), “ April fools are called: 
‘April Gouks.’” The form geck (also used in Germany) was to be found 
here in the time of Shakespeare. Malvolio, for instance, complains that he 


_ has been “‘ made the most notorious geck and hore that e’er invention played — 


on.” Zwelfth oY Act Voce ft. 


464 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


“Welcome! welcome!” sang every Sunbeam: and the Flower 
raised itself above the snow, up into the world of light. The 
sunbeams kissed and caressed it, till it fully unfolded itself, 
white as snow, and decked with green stripes. It bowed its 
head in gladness and humility. 

“ Beautiful flower!” sang the Sunbeams. “ How fresh thou 
art, and pure! ‘Thou art the first one: thou art the only one! 
Thou art our darling! Thou art like a bell ringing up the 
summer, lovely summer, over towns and fields. All snow — 
shall melt: the cold winds be chased away: we shall reign, and 


_ all things will grow green. ‘Then thou wilt have fellowship, the 


lilacs and laburnums, and last of all the roses. But thou art 
the first, so tender and so pure!” 

This was a deep delight to the Flower. It seemed as if the 
air it breathed was music, and as if its leaves and stem were 
full of thrillmg sunbeams. There it stood, so fine and fragile, 
and yet so vigorous, in the beauty of youth: stood in its white 
kirtle with green bands, and praised the summer. But sum- 
mer was not yet come; clouds began to hide the sun: sharp 
winds blew down upon the flower. 

“Thou art a little too soon,” said Wind and Weather. “We 
still hold sway: this thou shalt feel to thy cost! Why not 
have kept in-doors, instead of running out here in thy finery? 
it is not time for that yet!” 

It was biting cold. The days came, and never brought a 
sunbeam. It was weather to freeze it to pieces, such a deli- 
cate little flower! But there was more strength in it than it 
knew of. It was strong in its glad faith in the summer, that 
must be near; for thus its own heart had foretold it, and the 
sunbeams had confirmed the tale. And so with patient hope 
it stood in its white dress, in the white snow, bowing its head 
when the flakes fell thick and heavy, and when icy blasts came 
driving over it. 

“Crouch, cringe!” they howled. ‘Wither and starve! 
What doest thou here in the cold? Thou hast been lured 
abroad ; the sunbeam hath mocked thee. Now make the best. 
of it, thou summer-gowk !” 

‘““Summer-gowk ! ” echoed the keen airs of morning. 

‘“A summer-gowk !” shouted children, who came down into 


THE SUMMER-GOWK. 465 


the garden ; “‘there it stands so pretty, so beautiful: the first, 
the only one!” 

And the words did good to the Flower ; they were like warm 
sunbeams. In its gladness it never once noticed that it was 
being plucked. It lay in a child’s hand, was kissed by a child’s 
mouth, brought into a warm room, gazed at by kind eyes, and 
set in water—so strengthening, so enlivening. ‘The Flower 
thought it had passed into the middle of summer. 

The daughter of the house was a pretty little lass, just con- 
firmed, and she had a little sweetheart, also just confirmed, 
who was studying for his livelihood. ‘He shall be my sum- 
mer-gowk,” said she ; and took the fine flower, and laid it ina 
scented paper, that was written all over with verses about the 
flower, beginning with summer-gowk, and ending with summer- 
gowk —“now, sweetheart, be my winter-fool!’”—she had 
mocked him with the summer. Yes, that was the meaning of 
the verses. They were folded up as a letter, and the Flower 
was slipped inside, and there it lay all in the dark, as dark as 
when it lay in the bulb. It had to go on a journey, squeezed 
into the corner of a post-bag; this was not at all pleasant, but 
it came to an end at last. 

The journey was over, the letter was opened, and read by 
the young sweetheart. He was so delighted, he kissed the 
Flower. It was locked up, with the verses around it, in a 
drawer, where there were many charming letters, but without 
a single flower in them. Here again it was the first, the only 
one, as the sunbeams had called it, and that was something to 
think about. 

It was left to think at leisure for a long time ; and it went on 
thinking throughout the summer, and throughout the winter, 
till another summer came round: then it was drawn forth 
again. But this time the youth looked by no means delighted. 
He gripped hold of the papers, and flung away the verses, so 
that the Flower dropped out on the floor. Flattened and with- 
ered as it was, still it ought not to have been thrown down on 
the floor ; yet, after all, it was better off there than in the fire, 
where the verses and letters were blazing. What could have 
happened?. What happens so often. The flower had mocked 


him; that was a joke: the maiden had mocked him ; that was 


30 


466 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


no joke: she had chosen another sweetheart for this midsum- 
mer. 

The next morning the sun shone in on the little flattened 
Summer-gowk, that looked as if it was painted on the floor. 
The servant girl, who was sweeping, picked it up and placed 
it in one of the books on the table ; for she fancied it must 
have fallen while she was routing about and putting things in 
order. And again the Flower lay between verses — printed 
verses, and those are grander than written ones ; at all events 
they cost more. 

Years passed away, and the book stood still on its shelf. 
At length it was taken down, opened, and read. It was a good 
book: songs and poems by the Danish poet, Ambrosius Stub, 
who is well worth knowing. The man who was reading turned 
a page of the book. “So hereis a flower!” said he; “a 
summer-gowk! Not without meaning does it lie here. Poor 
Ambrosius Stub; he too was a summer-gowk, a poet-gowk. 
He came before his time ; and so he had to face sharp winds 
and sleet, on his rounds among the gentlemen of Fiinen. 
Set up for a show, like the Flower in a glass ;. sent on for a 
jest, like the flower in a valentine ; he was a summer-gowk, a 
winter-fool, all fun and foolery; and yet the first, the only 
Danish poet of the time; and still, in his youthful freshness, 
the first, the only one! Aye, lie as a mark in this book, little 
Summer-gowk : thou art laid here with some meaning.” 

And thus the Summer-gowk was put back again into the 
book, and felt honored and delighted with learning that it 
was a.mark in a beautiful song-book ; and that he who had 
first written and sung about the Flower had himself been a 
summer-gowk, and played the fool in winter. Now the Flower 
understood this in its own way, just as we understand anything 
in our way. 

This is the fairy-tale of the Summer-gowk. 


THE OLD HOUSE. 


P there in the street was an old, old house; it was al- 

most three hundred years old, for that might be known 

by reading the great beam on which the date of the year was 

carved: together with tulips and hop-binds there were whole 

verses spelled as in former times, and over every window was a 

distorted face cut out in the beam. ‘The one story stood for- 

ward a great way over the other ; and directly under the eaves 

was a leaden spout with a dragon’s head: the rain-water should 

have run out of the mouth, but it ran out of the belly, for there 
was a hole in the spout. 

All the other houses in the street were so new and so neat, 
with large window-panes and smooth walls, one could easily 
see that they would have nothing to do with the old house: 
they certainly thought, “ How long is that old decayed thing 
to stand here as a spectacle in the street? And then the pro- 
jecting windows stand so far out, that no one can see from our 
windows what happens in that direction! The steps are as 


468 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


broad as those of a palace, and as high as to a church tower. 
The iron railings look just like the door to an old family vault, 
and then they have brass tops, — that’s so stupid !” 

On the other side of the street were also new and neat 
houses, and they thought just as the others did; but at the 
window opposite the old house there sat a little boy with fresh, 
rosy cheeks and bright, beaming eyes: he certainly liked the 
old house best, and that both in sunshine and moonshine. 
And when he looked across at the wall where the mortar had 
fallen out, he could Sit and find out there the strangest figures 
imaginable ; exactly as the street had appeared before, with 
steps, projecting windows, and pointed gables ; he could see 
soldiers with halberds, and spouts where the water ran, like 
dragons and serpents. Z/at was a house to look at; and 
there lived an old man, who wore plush breeches ; and he had 
a coat with large brass buttons, and a wig that one could see 
was areal wig. Every morning there came an old fellow to 
him who'put his rooms in order, and went on errands ; other- 
wise, the old man in the plush breeches was quite alone in the 
old house. Now and then he came to the window and looked 
out, and the little boy nodded to him, and the old man nodded 
again, and so they became acquaintances, and then they were 
friends, although they had never spoken to each other, — but | 
that made no difference. The little boy heard his parents say, 
“The old man opposite is very well off, but he is so very, very 
lonely !” ‘ 

The Sunday following, the Little Boy took something, and 
wrapped it up in a piece of paper, went down-stairs, and stood 
in the doorway ; and when the man who went on errands came 
past, he said to him, — 

“T say, master! will you give this to the old man over the 
way for me? I have two pewter soldiers — this is one of 
them, and he shall have it, for I know he is so very, very 
lonely.” 

And the old errand man looked quite pleased, nodded, and 
teok the pewter soldier over to the old house. Afterwards 
there came a message ; it was to ask if the Little Boy himself 
had not a wish to come over and pay a visit ; and so he got 
permission of his parents, and then went over to the old house. 


LME OLD) LOOSE, 469 


And the brass balls on the iron railings shone much brighter 
than ever ; one would have thought they were polished on ac- 
count of the visit ; and it was as if the carved-out trumpeters 
— for there were trumpeters, who stood in tulips, carved out 
on the door — blew with all their might, their cheeks appeared 


so much rounder than before. Yes, they blew — “ Trateratra! 
the Little Boy comes! trateratra!”—and then the door 
opened. 


The whole passage was hung with portraits of knights in ar- 
mor and ladies in silken gowns; and the armor rattled, and 
the silken gowns rustled! And then there was a flight of stairs 
which went a good way upward, and a little way downward, 
and then one came on a balcony which was in a very dilapi- 
dated state, sure enough, with large holes and long crevices ; 
but grass grew there and leaves out of them altogether, for the 
whole balcony outside, the yard, and the walls, were over- 
grown with so much green stuff, that it looked like a garden: 
but it was only a balcony Here stood old flower-pots with 
faces and asses’ ears, and the flowers grew just as they liked. 
One of the pots was quite overrun on all sides with pinks, 
that is to say, with the green part; shoot stood by shoot, and 
it said quite distinctly, “The air has cherished me, the sun 
has kissed me, and promised me a little flower on Sunday! 
—a little flower on Sunday!” 

And then they entered a chamber where the walls were cov- 
ered with hog’s leather, and printed with gold flowers. 

** Gilding ’s soon past, 
But pig-skin will last,” 
said the walls. 

And there stood easy-chairs, with such high backs, and so 
carved out, and with arms on both sides. “Sit down! sit 
down!” said they. “Ugh! how I creak ; now I shall cer- 
tainly get the gout, like the old clothes-press: ugh!” 

And then the Little Boy came into the room where the pro- 
jecting windows were, and where the old man sat. 

- “T thank you for the pewter soldier, my little friend!” said 
the Old Man, “and I thank you because you come over to me.” 

“Thankee! thankee!” or “Cranky! cranky!” sounded 
from all the furniture ; there was so much of it, that each 


470 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


article stood in the other’s way, to get a look at the Little 
Boy. 

In the middle of the wall hung a picture representing a 
beautiful lady, so young, so glad, but dressed quite as in former 
times, with clothes that stood quite stiff, and with powder in 
her hair ; she neither said “ thankee, Thankee!”’ nor ‘‘ Cranky, 
cranky!” but looked with her mild eyes at the Little Boy, who 
directly asked the Old Man, ‘‘ Where did you get her ?” 

“Yonder, at the broker’s,” said the Old Man, “ where there 
are so many pictures hanging. No one knows or cares about. 
them, for they are all of them buried ; but I knew her in by- 
gone days, and now she has been dead and gone these fifty 
years !” 

Under the picture, in a glazed frame, there hung a douguet 
of withered flowers ; they were almost fifty years old; they 
looked so very old! 

The pendulum of the great clock went to and fro, and the 
hands turned, and everything in the room became still older ; 
but they did not observe it. 

“They say at home,” said the Little Boy, “that you are so 
very, very lonely!” 

“OQ!” said he, “the old thoughts, with what they may 
bring with them, come and visit me, and now you also come! 
I am very well off.” 

Then he took a book with pictures in it down from the 
shelf ; there were whole long processions and pageants, with 
the strangest characters, which one never sees nowadays : 
soldiers like the knave of clubs, and citizens with waving 
flags ; the tailors had theirs, with a pair of shears held by two 
lions ; and the shoemakers theirs, without boots, but with an 
eagle that had two heads, for the shoemakers must have every- 
thing so that they can say, it isa pair! Yes, that was a pic- 
ture-book ! 

The Old Man now went into the other room to fetch pre- 
serves, apples, and nuts; yes, it was delightful over there 
in the old house. 

“T cannot bear it any longer!” said the Pewter Soldier, 

vho sat on the drawérs ; “itis so lonely and melancholy here! 
but when one‘has been in a family circle one cannot accustom 


LHE OLD. HOUSE. ATA 


oneself to this life! JI cannot bear it any longer! the whole 
day is so long, and the evenings are still longer! Here it is 
not at all as it is over the way at your home, where your father 
and mother spoke so pleasantly, and where you and all you 
sweet children made such a delightful noise. Nay, how lonely 
the old man is! Do you think that he gets kisses? do you 
think he gets mild eyes, or a Christmas tree? He will get 
nothing but a grave —I can bear it no longer!” 

“You must not let it grieve you so much,” said the Little 
Boy ; ‘“‘I find it so very delightful here, and then all the old 
thoughts, with what they may bring with them, they come and 
visit here.” 

“Yes, it’s all very well, but I see nothing of them, and I 
don’t know them!” said the Pewter Soldier ; “ I cannot bear 
ip.” 

“ But you must!” said the Little Boy. 

Then in came the Old Man with the most pleased and 
happy face, the most delicious preserves, apples, and nuts, 
and so the Little Boy thought no more about the Pewter 
Soldier. 

The Little Boy returned home happy and _ pleased, and 
weeks and days passed away, and nods were made to the old 
house, and from the old house, and then the Little Boy went 
over there again. 

The carved trumpeters blew, “‘Trateratra! there is the Little 

Boy ! trateratra!” and the swords and armor on the knights’ 
portraits rattled, and the silk gowns rustled ; the hog’s-leather 
spoke, and the old chairs had the gout in their legs and rheu- 
matism in their backs ; Ugh !—it was exactly like the first 
time, for over there one day and hour was just like another. 

“I cannot bear it!” said the Pewter Soldier ; “I have shed 
pewter tears! it is too melancholy! rather let me go to the 
wars and lose arms and legs! it would at least be a change. 
I cannot bear it longer! Now I know what it is to havea 
visit from one’s old thoughts, with what they may bring with 
them! I have had a visit from mine, and you may be sure it 
is no pleasant thing in the end ; I was at last about to jump 
down from the drawers. 

‘“‘T saw you all over there at home so distinctly, as if ‘you 


Ay 2 oes ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


really were here ; it was again that Sunday morning ; all you 
children stood before the table and sung your Psalms, as you 
do every morning. You stood devoutly with folded hands ; 
and father and mother were just as pious ; and then the door 
was opened, and little Sister Mary, who is not two years old 
yet, and who always dances when she hears music or singing, 
of whatever kind it may be, was put into the room — though 
she ought not to have been there —and then she began’ to 
dance, but could not keep time, because the tones were so 
long ; and then she stood, first on the one leg, and bent her 
head forward, and then on the other leg, and bent her head 
forward — but all would not do. You stood very seriously all 
together, although it was difficult enough ; but I laughed to 
myself, and then I fell off the table, and got a bump, which I 
have still—for it was not right of me to laugh. But the 
whole now passes before me again in thought, and everything 
that I have lived to see ; and these are the old thoughts, with 
what they may bring with them! 

“Tell me if you still sing on Sundays? Tell me something 
about little Mary! and how my comrade, the other pewter 
soldier, lives! Yes, he is happy enough, that’s sure! I can- 
not bear it any longer!” 

“You are given away as a present! ” said the Little Boy ; 
“you must remain. Can you not understand that?” 

The Old Man now came with a drawer, in which there was 
much to be seen, both “tin boxes ” and “ balsam boxes,” old 
cards, so large and so gilded, such as one never sees them 
now. And several drawers were opened, and the piano was 
opened ; it had landscapes on the inside of the lid, and it 
was so hoarse when the Old Man played on it! and then he 
hummed a song. 

“Ves, she could sing that!” said he, and nodded to the 
portrait, which he had bought at the broker’s, and the Old 
Man’s eyes shone so bright! 

“T will go to the wars! 1 will go to the wars!” shouted the 
Pewter Soldier as loud as he could, and threw himself off the 
drawers right down on the floor. 

What became of him? The Old Man sought, and the Little 
Boy sought ; he was away, and he stayed away. 


ae 


Saye —— 


V/s # 


/ 


N PVR. = 
Ste SI 


ee 


ee 


LH WOLD LOUSE. A75 


*T shall find him!” said the Old Man ; but he never found 
him. The floor was too open—the Pewter Soldier had fallen 
through a crevice, and there he lay as in an open tomb. 

That day passed, and the Little Boy went home, and that 
week passed, and several weeks too. ‘The windows were quite 
frozen, the little boy was obliged to sit and breathe on them 
to get a peep-hole over to the old house, and there the snow 
had been blown into all the carved work and inscriptions ; it 
lay quite up over the steps, just as if there was no one at 
home ;—nor was there any one at home —the Old Man was 
dead ! 

In the evening there was a hearse seen before the door, 
and he was borne into it in his coffin: he was now to go out 
into the country, to lie in his grave. He was driven out 
there, but no one followed ; all his friends were dead, and the 
Little Boy kissed his hand to the coffin as it was driven away. 

Some days afterwards there was an auction at the old house, 
and the Little Boy saw from his window how they carried the 
old knights and the old ladies away, the flower-pots with the 
long ears, the old chairs, and the old clothes-presses. Some- 
thing came here, and something came there ; the portrait of 
her who had been found at the broker’s came to the broker’s 
again; and there it hung, for no one knew her more —no 
one cared about the old picture. 

In the spring they pulled the house down, for, as people 
said, it was aruin. One could see from the street right into 
the room with the hog’s-leather hanging, which was slashed 
and torn; and the green grass and leaves about the balcony 
hung quite wild about the falling beams. And then it was 
put to rights. 

“That was a relief!” said the neighboring houses. 

A fine house was built there, with large windows, and sioaitn 
white walls ; but before it, where the old house had in fact 
stood, was a little garden laid out, and a wild grape-vine ran 
up the wall of the neighboring house. Before the garden 
there was a large iron railing with an iron door; it looked 
quite splendid, and people stood still and peeped in, and the 
sparrows hung by scores in the vine, and chattered away at 
each other as well as they could, but it was not about the cld 


476 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


house, for they could not remember it, so many years had 
passed, —so many that the Little Boy had grown up to a whole 
man, yes, a clever man, and a pleasure to his parents ; and 
he had just been married, and together with his little wife, 
had come to live in the house here, where the garden was ; 
and he stood by her there whilst she planted a field-flower 
that she found so pretty ; she planted it with her little hand, 
and pressed the earth around it with her fingers. O! what 
was that? She had stuck herself. There sat something 
pointed, straight out of the soft mould. 

It was — yes, guess !—it was the Pewter Soldier, he that 
was lost up at the Old Man’s, and had tumbled and turned 
about amongst the timber and the rubbish, and had at last 
laid for many years in the ground. 

The young wife wiped the dirt off the Soldier, first with a 
green leaf, and then with her fine handkerchief — it had such 
a delightful smell, that it was to the Pewter Soldier just as if 
he had awaked from a trance. 

“ Let me see him,” said the young man. He laughed, and 
then shook his head. ‘“ Nay, it cannot be he: but he reminds 
me of a story about a pewter soldier which I had when I was 
a little boy!” And then he told his wife about the old house, 
and the Old Man, and about the Pewter Soldier that he sent 
over to him because he was so very, very lonely ; and_ he told 
it as correctly as it had really been, so that the tears came 
into the eyes of his young wife, on account of the old house 
and the Old Man. 

“Tt may possibly be, however, that it is the same pewter 


soldier!” said she. ‘I will take care of it, and remember all 
that you have told me; but you must show me the Old Man’s 
grave!” 


“But I do not know it,” said he, “and no one knows it! all 
his friends were dead, no one took care of it, and I was then 
a little boy!” 

“‘How very, very lonely he must have been!” said she. 

“Very, very lonely!” said the Pewter Soldier ; “ but it is 
delightful not to be forgotten ! ” 

“ Delightful!” shouted something close by; but no one, 
except the Pewter Soldier, saw that it was a piece of the hog’s- 


477 


t looked like a 


H 


p) 


7, 


BUG 
a 
YY 


But pig-skin will last.” 


THE OLD HOUSE. 
This the Pewter Soldier did not believe. 


piece of wet clay, but it had an opinion, and it gave it :— 
‘* Gilding ’s soon past, 


leather hangings ; it had lost all its gilding 


4 gy 


LY \ 


SS 5S 


BR 
ay 


478 ANDERSEN'S WONDER STORIES. 


IN THE DUCK-YARD. 


DUCK arrived from Portugal. Some said she came 

from Spain, but that’s all the same. At any rate she 
was called the Portuguese, and laid eggs, and was killed and 
cooked, and that was fer career. But the ducklings which 
crept forth from her eggs were afterwards also called Portu- | 
guese, and there is something in that. Now, of the whole 
family, there was only one left in the duck-yard,—a yard to 
which the chickens had access, likewise, and where the cock 
strutted about in a very aggressive manner. 

‘He annoys me with his loud crowing!” observed the Por- 
tuguese Duck. ‘ But he’s a handsome bird, there’s no deny- 
ing that, though he is not a drake. He ought to moderate 
his voice, but that’s an art inseparable from polite education, 
like that possessed by the little singing birds over in the lime- 
trees in the neighbor’s garden. How charmingly they sing! 
There’s something quite pretty in their warbling. I call it 
Portugal. If I had only such a little singing bird, I’d be a 
mother to him, kind and good, for that’s in my blood, — my 
Portuguese blood !” 

And while she was still speaking, a little singing bird came 
head over heels from the roof into the yard. The cat was be- 
hind him, but the bird escaped with a broken wing, and that’s 
how he came tumbling into the yard. 

“That’s just like the cat; she’s a villain!” said the Portu- 
guese Duck. “I remember her ways when I had children of 
my own. ‘That such a creature should be allowed to live, and 
to wander about upon the roofs! I don’t think they do such 
things in Portugal!” | 

And she pitied the little Singing Bird, and the other ducks 
who were not of Portuguese descent pitied him too. 

“Poor little creature ! ” they said, as one after another came 
up. “We certainly can’t sing,” they said, “but we have a 
sounding board, or something of the kind, within us ; we can 
feel that, though we don’t talk of it.” 

“ But I can talk of it,” said the Portuguese Duck ; “ and 


IN THE DUCK-YARD. 479 


I'll do something for the little fellow, for that’s my duty!” 
And she stepped into the water-trough, and beat her wings 
upon the water so heartily, that the little Singing Bird was 
almost drowned by the bath he got, but the Duck meant it 
kindly. “That’s a good deed,” she said: “the others may 
take example by it.” 

“Piep!” said the little Bird: one of his wings was broken, 
and he found it difficult to shake himself ; but he quite under- 
stood that the bath was kindly meant. ‘“ You are very kind- 
hearted, madam,” he said ; but he did not wish for a second 
bath. 

“T have never thought about my heart,” continued the Por- 
tuguese Duck, “ but I know this much, that I love all my fel- 
low-creatures except the cat ; but nobody can expect me to 
love her, for she ate up two of my ducklings. But pray make 
yourself at home, for one can make oneself comfortable. I 
myself am from a strange country, as you may see from my 
bearing and from my feathery dress. My drake is a native of 
these parts ; he’s not of my race; but for all that I’m not 
proud! If any one here in the yard can understand you, I 
may assert that I am that person.” 

‘She’s quite full of Portulak,” said a little common Duck, 
who was witty ; and all the other common ducks considered 
the word /ortulak quite a good joke, for it sounded like Por- . 
tugal: and they nudged each other and said “ Rapp!” It 
was too witty! And all the other ducks now began to notice 
the little Singing Bird. 

“The Portuguese has certainly a greater command of lan- 
guage,” they said. “ For our part, we don’t care to fill our 
beaks with such long words, but our sympathy is just as great. 
If we don’t do anything for you, we march about with you 
everywhere ; and we think that the best thing we can do.” 

“You have a lovely voice,” said one of the oldest. “It 
must be a great satisfaction to be able to give so much pleas- 
ure as you are able to impart. I certainly am no great judge 
of your song, and consequently I keep my beak shut; and 
even that is better than talking nonsense to you as others do.” 

“Don’t plague him so,” interposed the Portuguese Duck: 
“he requires rest and nursing. My little Singing Bird, do you 
wish me to prepare another bath for you?” 


480 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


“© no! pray let me be dry!” was the little Bird’s petition. 

“The water cure is the only remedy for me when I am un- 
well,” quoth the Portuguese. ‘ Amusement is beneficial too. 
The neighboring fowls will soon come to pay their visit. 
There are two Cochin Chinese among them. They wear 
feathers on their legs, are well educated, and have been 
brought from afar, consequently they stand higher than the 
others in my regard.” 

And the fowls came, and the Cock came ; to-day he was 
polite enough to abstain from being rude. 

“You are a true singing bird,” he said, “and you do as 
much with your little voice as can possibly be done with it. 
But one requires a little more shrillness, that every hearer may 
hear that one is a male.” 

The two Chinese stood quite enchanted with the appear- 
ance of the Singing Bird. He looked very much rumpled 
after his bath, so that he seemed to them to have quite the ap- 
pearance of a little Cochin China fowl. 

‘““He’s charming,” they cried, and began a conversation 
with him, speaking in whispers, and using the most aristo- 
cratic Chinese dialect. 

“We are of your race,” they continued. “ The ducks, even 
the Portuguese, are swimming birds, as you cannot fail to 
have noticed. You do not know us yet; very few know us, 
or give themselves the trouble to make our acquaintance — 
not even any of the fowls, though we are born to occupy a 
higher grade on the ladder than most of the rest. But that 
does not disturb us: we quietly pursue our path amid the 
others, whose principles are certainly not ours ; for we look at 
things on the favorable side, and only speak of what is good, 
though it is difficult sometimes to find something when noth- 
ing exists. Except us two and the Cock, there’s no one in 
the whole poultry-yard who is at once talented and polite. It 
cannot even be said of the inhabitants of the duck-yard. We 
warn you, little Singing Bird: don’t trust that one yonder with 
the short tail-feathers, for she’s cunning. The pied one there, 
with the crooked stripes on her wings, is a strife-seeker, and 
lets nobody have the last word, though she’s always in the 
wrong. The fat duck yonder speaks evil of every one, and 


IN THE DUCK-YARD. A81 


that’s against our principles: if we have nothing good to tell, 
we should hold our beaks. The Portuguese is the only one 
who has any education, and with whom one can associate, but 
she is passionate, and talks too much about Portugal.” 

“I wonder what those two Chinese are always whispering 
to one another about?” whispered one Duck to her friend. 
“They annoy me — we have never spoken to them.” 

Now the Drake came up. He thought the little Singing 
Bird was a sparrow. 

“Well, I don’t understand the difference,” he said ; “and 
indeed it’s all the same thing. He’s only'a plaything, and if 
one has them, why, one has them.” 

“ Don’t attach any value to what he says,” the Portuguese 
whispered. ‘ He’s very respectable in business matters ; and 
with him business takes precedence of everything. But now 
I shall lie down for a rest. One owes that to oneself, that one 
may be nice and fat when one is to be embalmed with apples 
and plums.” 

And accordingly she lay down in the sun, and winked with 
one eye ; and she lay very comfortably, and she felt very com- 
fortable, and she slept very comfortably. 

The little Singing Bird busied himself with his broken wing. - 
At last he lay down too, and pressed close to his protectress: 
the sun shone warm and bright, and he had found a very good 
place. 

But the neighbor’s fowls were awake. They went about 
scratching up the earth ; and, to tell the truth, they had paid 
the visit simply and solely to find food for themselves. The 
Chinese were the first to leave the duck-yard, and the other 
fowls soon followed them. The witty little Duck said of the 
Portuguese that the old lady was becoming a ducky dotard. At 
this the other ducks laughed and cackled aloud. “ Ducky 
dotard,” they whispered ; “ that’s too witty!” and then they re- 
peated the former joke about Portulak, and declared that it 
was vastly amusing. And then they lay down. 

They had been lying asleep for some time, when suddenly 
something was thrown into the yard for them to eat. It came 
down with such a thwack, that the whole company started up 
from sleep and clapped their wings. The Portuguese awoke 

31 


482 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


too, and threw herself over on the other side, pressing the lit- 
tle Singing Bird very hard as she did so. 

“ Piep!” he cried ; “you trod very hard upon me, madam.” 

“Well, why do you lie in my way?” the Duck retorted. 
“You must not be so touchy. J have nerves of my own, but 
yet I never called out ‘ Piep!’” 

“Don’t be angry,” said the little Bird; “the ‘ Piep’ came 
out of my beak unawares.” 

The Portuguese did not listen to him, but began eating as 
fast as she could, and made a good meal. When this was - 
ended, and she lay down again, the little Bird came up, and 
wanted to be amiable, and sang : — 

*“« Tillee-lilly-lee, 
Of the good spring-time 
Tll sing so fine 
As far away I flee.” 

“ Now I want to rest after my dinner,” said the Portuguese. 
“You must conform to the rules of the house while you’re 
here. I want to sleep now.” 

The little Singing Bird was quite taken aback, for he had 
meant it kindly. When Madam afterwards awoke, he stood 
before her again with a little corn that he had found, and laid 
it at her feet ; but as she had not slept well, she was naturally 
in a very bad humor. 

“Give that to a chicken!” she said, “and don’t be always 
standing in my way.” 

““Why are you angry with me?” replied the little Singing 
Bird. ‘ What have I done?” 

“Done!” repeated the Portuguese Duck: “ your mode of 
“expression is not exactly genteel ; a fact to which I must call 
your attention.” 

“Yesterday it was sunshine here,” said the little Bird, “ but 
to-day it’s cloudy and the air is close.” 

“Vou don’t know much about the weather, I fancy,” re- 
torted the Portuguese. “The day is not done yet. Don’t 
stand there looking so stupid.” 

“But you are looking at me just as the wicked eyes looked 
when I fell into the yard yesterday.” 

“ Tmpertinent creature!” exclaimed the Portuguese Duck, 


IN THE DUCK-YARD. 48 S 


“would you compare me with the cat, that beast of prey? 
There’s not a drop of malicious blood in me. I’ve taken your 
part, and will teach you good manners.” 

And so saying, she bit off the Singing Bird’s head, and he 
lay dead on the ground. 

“Now what’s the meaning of this?” she said ; “ could he not 
bear even that? Then certainly he was not made for this 
world. I’ve been like a mother to him, I know that, for I’ve 
a good heart.” 

Then the neighbor’s Cock stuck his head into the yard, and 
crowed with steam-engine power. 

“You'll kill me with your crowing!” she cried. “It’s all 
your fault. He’s lost his head, and I am very near losing 
mine.” 

“There’s not much lying where he fell!” observed the 
Cock. 

“ Speak of him with respect,” retorted the Portuguese Duck, 
“for he had song, manners, and education. He was affection- 
ate and soft, and that’s as good in animals as in your so-called 
human beings.” 

And all the ducks came crowding round the little dead 
Singing Bird. Ducks have strong passions, whether they feel 
envy or pity; and as there was nothing here to envy, pity 
manifested itself, even in the two Chinese. 

“We shall never get such a singing bird again ; he was al- 
most a Chinese,” they whispered ; and they wept with a mighty 
clucking sound, and all the fowls clucked too, but the ducks 
went about with the redder eyes. 

“We've hearts of our own,” they said; “nobody can deny 
shat. 

“Hearts!” repeated the Portuguese, “yes, that we have, 
almost as much as in Portugal.” 

“Tet us think of getting something to satisfy our hunger,” 
said the Drake, “for that’s the most important point. If one 
of our toys is broken, why, we have plenty more ! ” 


484 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


IN THE NURSERY. ~ 


ATHER, and mother, and brothers, and sisters, were 
gone to the play ; only little Anna and her grandpapa 
were left at home. 

“We'll have a play, too,” he said ; “and it may begin im- 
mediately.” 

‘“* But we have no theatre,” cried little Anna, “and we have 
no one to act for us ; my old doll cannot, for she is a fright, 
and my new one cannot, for she must not rumple her new 
clothes.” 

“One can always get actors if one makes use of what one 
has,” observed Grandpapa. 

‘““Now we'll go into the theatre. Here we will put up a 
book, there another, and there a third, in a sloping row. Now 
three on the other side ; so, now we have the side-scenes. 
The old box that lies yonder may be the back stairs; and 
we'll lay the flooring on top of it. The stage represents a 
room, as every one may see. Now we want the actors. Let 
us see what we can find in the plaything-box. First the per- 
sonages, and then we will get the play ready: one after the 
other, that will be capital! Here’s a pipe-head, and yonder 
an odd glove ; they will do very well for father and daughter.” 

“But those are only two characters,” said little Anna. 
“ Here’s my brother’s old waistcoat — could not that play in - 
our piece, too?” 

“It’s big enough, certainly,” replied Grandpapa. “It shall 
be the lover. There is nothing in the pockets, and that’s very 
interesting, for that’s half of an unfortunate attachment. And 
here we have the nut-cracker’s boots, with spurs to them. 
Row, dow, dow! how they can stamp and strut! They shall 
represent the unwelcome wooer, whom the lady does not like. 
What kind of play will you have now? Shall it be a tragedy, 
or a domestic drama?” ) 

“A domestic drama, please,” said little Anna; “for the 
others are so fond of that. Do you know one?” 

“I know a hundred,” said Grandpapa. “Those that are 


IN THE NURSERY. 48 5 


most in favor are from the French, but they are not good for 
little girls. In the mean time, we may take one of the prettiest, 
for inside they’re all very much alike. Now I shake the pen! 
Cock-a-lorum! So now, here’s the play, brin-bran-span new ! 
Now listen to the play-bill.” 

And Grandpapa took a newspaper, and read as if he were 
reading from it : — 


““THE PIPE-HEAD AND THE GOOD HEAD. 


A Family Drama in one Act. 


CHARACTERS. 
MR. PIPE-HEAD, @ father. Mr. WAISTCOAT, @ lover. 
Miss GLOVE, @ daughter. MR. DE Boots, a suztor.’ 


* And now we're going to begin. The curtain rises: we 
have no curtain, so it has risen already. All the characters 
are there, and so we have them at hand. Now I speak as 
Papa Pipe-head ; he’s angry to-day. One can see that he’s a 
colored meerschaum. 

« ¢ Snik, snak, snurre, bassellurre! I’m master of this house! 
I’m the father of my daughter! Will you hear what I have to 
say? Mr. de Boots is a person in whom one may see one’s 
face ; his upper part is of morocco, and he has spurs into the 
bargain. Snikke, snakke, snak! He shall have my daughter!’ 

“ Now listen to what the Waistcoat says, little Anna,” said 
Grandpapa. ‘“ Now the Waistcoat’s speaking. The Waist- 
coat has a lay-down collar, and is very modest ; but he knows 
his own value, and has quite a right to say what he says : — 

“T haven’t a spot on me! Goodness of material ought to 
be appreciated. I am of real silk, and have strings to me.’ 

“““—- On the wedding day, but no longer: you don’t keep 
your color in the wash.’ This is Mr. Pipe-head who is speak- 
ing. ‘Mr. de Boots is water-tight, of strong leather, and yet 
very delicate ; he can creak, and clank with his spurs, and 
has an Italian physiognomy ’ ”— : 

“But they ought to speak in verses,” said Anna, “for I’ve 
heard that’s the most charming way of all.” 

“They can do that, too,” replied Grandpapa ; “and if the 
public demands it, they will talk in that way. Just look at 
little Miss Glove, how she’s pointing her fingers ! 


486 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


“¢ Could I but have my love, 
Who then so happy as Glove! 
Ah! 
If I from him must part, < 
I’m sure ’twill break my heart !” 
<< Dally 


That last word was spoken by Papa Pipe-head ; and now it’s 
Mr. Waistcoat’s turn : — | 


““¢Q Glove, my own dear, 
Though it cost thee a tear, 
Thou must be mine, 
For Holger, the Dane, has sworn it !’ 


“Mr. de Boots, hearing this, kicks up, jingles his spurs, and 
knocks down three of the side scenes.” 

“‘That’s exceedingly charming!” cried little Anna. 

“Silence! silence!” said Grandpapa. “Silent approbation 
will show that you are the educated public in the stalls. Now 
Miss Glove sings her great song with startling effect : — 


“¢T can’t see, heigho! 
And therefore Ill crow! 
Kikkeriki, in the lofty hall!’ 


“Now comes the exciting part, little Anna. This is the 
most important part in all the play. Mr. Waistcoat undoes 
himself, and addresses his speech to you, that you may ap- 
plaud ; but leave it alone, — that’s considered more genteel. 

“*J am driven to extremities! Take care of yourself! 
Now comes the plot! You are the Pipe-head, and I am the 
Good Head—snap! there you go!’ 

“ Do you notice this, little Anna?” said Grandpapa. ‘“ That’s 
a most charming scene and comedy ; Mr. Waistcoat seized the 
old Pipe-head, and put him in his pocket; there he lies, and 
the Waistcoat says : — 

““Vou are in my pocket ; you can’t come out till you pro- 
mise to unite me to your daughter Glove on the left. I hold 
out my right hand.’ ” 

“That’s awfully pretty,” said little Anna. 

“‘ And now the old Pipe-head replies : — 


““¢ Though I’m all ear, 
Very stupid I appear : 


IN THE NURSERY. 487 


Where’s my humor? Gone, I fear, 
And I feel my hollow stick’s not here. 
Ah! never, my dear, 
Did I feel so queer. 
O! pray led me out, 
And, like a lamb led to slaughter, 
I’ll betroth you, no doubt, 
To my daughter.’ ”’ 


“Ts the play over already?” asked little Anna. 

“By no means,” replied Grandpapa. “It’s only all over 
with Mr. de Boots. Now the lovers kneel down, and one of 
them sings :— ; 
**¢ Father.’ 


and the other, — 


«Come, do as you ought to do, — 
Bless your son and daughter.’ 


And they receive his blessing, and celebrate their wedding, 
and all the pieces of furniture sing in chorus, — 
“« Klink ! clanks ! 
A thousand thanks ; 
And now the play is over!’ 


“And now we'll applaud,” said Grandpapa. “We'll call 
them all out, and the pieces of furniture too, for they are of 
mahogany.” 

“ And is not our play just as good as those which the others 
have in the real theatre?” 

“Our play is much better,” said Grandpapa. “It is shorter, 
the performers are natural, and it has passed away the interval 
before tea-time.”’ 


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7 


THE FLAX. 


HE Flax stood in blossom ; it had pretty little blue flow- 

ers, delicate as a moth’s wings and even more delicate. 
The sun shone on the Flax, and the rain clouds moistened it, 
and this was just as good for it as it is for little children when > 
they are washed, and afterward get a kiss from their mother ; 
they become much prettier, and so did the Flax. 

“The people say that I stand uncommonly well,” said the 
Flax, “and that I’m fine and long, and shall make a capital 
piece of linen. How happy Iam! I’m certainly the happiest 
of beings. How well I am off! And I may come to some- 
thing! How the sunshine gladdens, and the rain tastes good 
and refreshes me! I’m wonderfully happy ; I’m the happiest 
of beings.” ; 

“Yes, yes, yes!” said the Hedge-stake. “ You don’t know 
the world, but we do, for we have knots in us;” and then it 
creaked out mournfully, — 


“ Snip-snap-snurre, 
Bassellurre ! 
The song is done.” 


“No, it is not done,” said the Flax. ‘To-morrow the sun 
will shine, or the rain will refresh us. I feel that I’m growing, 
I feel that I’m in blossom! I’m the happiest of beings.” 


THE FLAX. 7 489 


But one day the people came and took the Flax by the 
head and pulled it up by the root. That hurt ; and it was 
laid in water as if they were going to drown it, and then put 
on the fire as if it was going to be roasted. It was quite 
fearful ! , 

“ One can’t always have good times,” said the Flax. “One 
must make one’s experiences, and so one gets to know some- 
hang 

But bad times certainly came. The Flax was moistened, 
and roasted, and broken, and hackled. Yes, it did not even 
know what the operations were called that they did with it. 
It was put on the spinning-wheel — whirr! whirr! whirr ! — it 
was not possible to collect one’s thoughts. | 

“T have been uncommonly happy,” it thought in all its 
pain. ‘One must be content with the good one has enjoyed. 
_Contented! contented! O!” And it continued to say that 
when it was put into the loom, and till it became a large, 
beautiful piece of linen. All the Flax, to the last stalk, was 
used in making one piece. 

“But this is quite remarkable! I should never have be- 
lieved it! How favorable fortune is tome! The Hedge-stake 
is well informed, truly, with its — 


‘ Snip-snap-snurre, 
Bassellurre !’ 


The song is not done by any means. Now it’s beginning in 
earnest. That’s quite remarkable! If I’ve suffered something, 
I’ve been made into something! I’m the happiest of all! 
How strong and fine I am, kow white and long! ‘That’s 
something different from being a mere plant: even if one 
bears flowers, one is not attended to, and only gets watered 
when it rains. Now I’m attended to and cherished: the maid 
turns me over every morning, and I get a shower bath from 
the watering-pot every evening. Yes, the clergyman’s wife has 
even made a speech about me, and says I’m the best piece in 
the whole parish. I cannot possibly be happier!” 

Now the Linen was taken into the house, and put under 
the scissors: how they cut and tore it, and then pricked it 
with needles! That was not pleasant ; but twelve pieces of 


490 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


body linen of a kind not often mentioned by name, but indis- 
pensable to all people, were made of it —a whole dozen! 

a look! Now something has really been made of me! 
So; that was my destiny. That’s a real blessing. Now I 
shail be of some use in the world, and that’s right, that’s a 
true pleasure! We’ve been made into twelve things, but yet 
we're all one and the same; we're just a dozen: how charm- 
ing that is!” 

Years rolled on, and now they would hold together no 
longer. 

“It must be over one day,” said each piece. “I would 
gladly have held together a little longer, but one must not 
expect impossibilities.”’ 

They were now torn into pieces and fragments. They 
thought it was all over now, for they were hacked to shreds, 
and softened, and boiled ; yes, they themselves did not know 
all that was done to them ; and then they became beautiful 
white paper. 

“Now, that is a surprise, and a glorious surprise!” said 
the Paper. ‘ Now I’m finer than before, and I shall be writ- 
ten on: that is remarkable good fortune.” 

And really the most beautiful stories and verses were writ- 
ten upon it, and only once there came a blot; that was 
certainly remarkable good fortune. And the people heard 
what was upon it ; it was sensible and good, and made people 
much more sensible and better: there was a great blessing in 
the words that were on this Paper. 

“That is more than I ever imagined ae I was a little 
blue flower in the fields. How could I fancy that I should. 
ever spread joy and knowledge among men? I can’t yet 
understand it myself, but it really is so. I have done nothing 
myself but what I was obliged with my weak powers to do for 
my own preservation, and yet I have been promoted from one 
joy and honor to another. Each time when I think ‘the song 
is done,’ it begins again in a higher and better way. Now I 
shall certainly be sent about to journey through the world, so 
that all people may read me. That cannot be otherwise ; it’s 
the only probable thing. I have splendid thoughts, as many 
as I had pretty flowers in the old times. I’m the happiest of 
beings,” | 


THE FLAX. AQI 


But the Paper was not sent on its travels,—it was sent to 
the printer, and everything that was written upon it was set up 
in type for a book, or rather for many hundreds of books, for 
in this way a very far greater number could derive pleasure 
and profit from the book than if the one paper on which it 
was written had run about the world, to be worn out before it 
had got half way. 

“Yes, that is certainly the wisest way,” thought the Written 
Paper. “I really did not think of that. I shall stay at home, 
and be held in honor, just like an old grandfather ; and I am 
really the grandfather of all these books. Now something 
can be effected ; I could not have wandered about thus. He 
who wrote all this looked at me ; every word flowed from his 
pen right into me. I am the happiest of all.” 

Then the Paper was tied together in a bundle, and thrown 

into a tub that stood in the wash-house. 
_ “Tt’s good resting after work,” said the Paper. “ It’s very 
right that one should collect one’s thoughts. Now I’m able 
for the first time to think of what is in me, and to know one’s 
self is true progress. What will be done with me now? At 
any rate I shall go forward again: I’m always going forward ; 
I’ve found that out.” 

Now, one day all the Paper was taken out and laid by on 
the hearth ; it was to be burned, for it might not be sold to 
hucksters to be used for covering for butter and sugar, they 
said. And all the children in the house stood round about, 
for they wanted to see the Paper burn, that flamed so prettily, 
and afterwards one could see many red sparks among the ashes, 
careering here and there. One after another faded out as 
quick as the wind, and that they called ‘seeing the children 
come out of school,” and the last spark was the old school- 
master: one of them thought he had already gone, but the 
next moment there came another spark. ‘There goes the 
schoolmaster!” they said. Yes, they knew all about it ; they 
should have known who it was who went there: we shall get 
to know it, but they did not. All the old Paper, the whole 
bundle, was laid upon the fire, and it was soon alight. “ Ugh!” 
it said, and burst out into bright flame. Ugh! that was not 
very agreeable, but when the whole was wrapped in bright 


492 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


flames, these mounted up higher than the Flax had ever been 
able to lift its little blue flowers, and glittered as the white 
Linen had never been able to glitter. All the written letters 
turned for a moment quite red, and all the words and thoughts 
turned to flame. 

“Now I’m mounting straight up to the sun,” said a voice 
in the flame ; and it was as if a thousand voices said this in 
unison ; and the flames mounted up through the chimney and 
out at the top, and more delicate than the flames, invisible to 
human eyes, little tiny beings floated there, as many as there 
had been blossoms on the Flax. They were lighter even 
than the flame from which they were born; and when the 
flame was extinguished, and nothing remained of the Paper 
but black ashes, they danced over it once more, and where 
they touched the black mass the little red sparks appeared. 
The children came out of school, and the schoolmaster was 
the last of all. That was fun! and the children sang over the 
dead ashes, — 


‘¢ Snip-snap-snurre, 
Bassellurre ! 
The song is done.” 


But the little invisible beings all said, — 

“The song is never done, that is the best of all. We know 
it, and therefore we’re the happiest of all.” 

But the children could neither hear that nor understand it ; 
nor ought they, for children must not know everything. 


(| nl ll HATTA a it f aa 
{tle Eh 


} } : } 


it ! 

WH} ] 
a ANG 
f i | ) MAA 

i i ik t 
Ny} | 
{ h 


SSSSs == = 
SS 
SS 


THE SHADOW. 


T is in the hot lands that the sun burns, sure enough! 

there the people become quite mahogany brown, aye, and 

in the hottest lands they are burnt to negroes. But now it was 

only to the Zo¢ lands that a learned man had come from the 

cold; there he thought that he could run about just as when 
at home, but he soon found out his mistake. 

He, and all sensible folks, were obliged to stay within 
doors ; the window-shutters and doors were closed the whole 
day ; it looked as if the whole house slept, or there was no 
one at home. | 

The narrow street, with the high houses, was built so that 
the sunshine must fall there from morning till evening, — it 
was really not to be borne. 

The learned man from the cold lands —he was a young 
man, and seemed to be a clever man—sat in a glowing 
oven ; it took effect on him, he became quite meagre — even 
his shadow shrunk in, for the sun had also an effect on it. 
It was first toward evening, when the sun was down, that 
they began to freshen up again. 

In the warm lands every window has a balcony, and the 
people came out on all the balconies in the street — for one 


494 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


must have air, even if one be accustomed to be mahogany!? 
It was lively both up and down the street. Tailors, and 
shoemakers, and all the folks, moved: out into the street; — 
chairs and tables were brought forth ; and candles burnt — 
yes, above a thousand lights were burning; and the one 
talked and the other sung, and people walked and church- 
bells rang, and asses went along with a dingle-dingle-dong ! 
for they too had bells on. The street boys were scream-. 
ing and hooting, and shouting and shooting, with devils and 
detonating balls: and there came corpse bearers and hood 
wearers, — for there were funerals with psalm and hymn ; 
and then the din of carriages driving and company arriving, 
—yes, it was, in truth, lively enough down in the street. 
Only in that single house, which stood opposite that in which 
the learned foreigner lived, it was quite still; and yet some 
one lived there, for there stood flowers in the balcony — they 
grew so well in the sun’s heat!— and that they could not 
do unless they were watered ; and some one must water 
them — there must be somebody there. The door opposite 
was also opened late in the evening, but it was dark within, 
at least in the front room; further in there was heard the 
sound of music. The learned foreigner thought it quite mar- 
velous, but now — it might be that he only imagined it, for 
he found everything marvelous out there in the warm lands, if 
there had only been no sun. The stranger’s landlord said 
that he didn’t know who had taken the house opposite, one 
saw no person about, and as to the music, it appeared to 
him to be extremely tiresome. “It is as if some one sat 
there and practiced a piece that he could not master — al- 
ways the same piece. ‘I shall master it!’ says he ; but yet 
he cannot master it, however long he plays.” 


1 The word mahogany can be understood, in Danish, as having two 
meanings. In general, it means the reddish-brown wood itself; but in 
jest, it signifies ‘excessively fine,” which arose from an anecdote of 
Nyboder in Copenhagen (the seamen’s quarter). A sailor’s wife, who 
was always proud and fine, in her way, came to her neighbor and com- 
plained that she had got a splinter in her finger. ‘ What of ?” asked the 
neighbor’s wife. ‘‘It is a mahogany splinter,” said the other. ‘ Mahog- 
any! it cannot be less with you!” exclaimed the woman; and thence the 
proverb, ‘It is so mahogany!” ( that is -— so excessively fine) is derived. 


Lit SHADOW. 495 


One night the stranger awoke — he slept with the doors 
of the balcony open — the curtain before it was raised by the 
wind, and he thought that a strange lustre came from the op- 
posite neighbor’s house ; all the flowers shone like flames, in 
the most beautiful colors, and in the midst of the flowers 
stood a slender, graceful maiden, —it was as if she also 
shone ; the light really hurt his eyes. He now opened them 
quite wide — yes, he was quite awake; with one spring he 
was on the floor; he crept gently behind the curtain, but the 
maiden was gone ; the flowers shone no longer, but there they 
stood, fresh and blooming as ever: the door was ajar, and, 
far within, the music sounded so soft and delightful, one 
could really melt away in sweet thoughts from it. Yet it was 
like a piece of enchantment. And who lived there? Where 
was the actual entrance? ‘The whole of the ground-floor was 
a row of shops, and there people could not always be running 
through. 

One evening, the stranger sat out on the balcony. The 
light burnt in the room behind him ; and thus it was quite 
natural that his shadow should fall on his opposite neighbor’s 
wall: Yes, there it sat, directly opposite, between the flowers 
on the balcony ; and when the stranger moved, the shadow 
also moved: for that it always does. 

“T think my shadow is the only living thing one sees over 
there,” said the Learned Man. “See! how nicely it sits 
between the flowers. ‘The door stands half-open: now the 
shadow should be cunning, and go into the room, look about, 
and then come and tell me what it had seen. Come, now! 
be useful, and do me a service,” said he, in jest. ‘ Have the 
kindness to step in. Now! art thou going?” and then he 
nodded“ to the Shadow, and the Shadow nodded again. 
“Well, then, go! but don’t stay away.” 

The stranger rose, and his Shadow on their opposite neigh- 
bor’s balcony rose also; the stranger turned round, and the 
Shadow also turned round. Yes! if any one had paid partic- 
ular attention to it, they would have seen, quite distinctly, 
that the Shadow went in through the half-open balcony-door 
of their opposite neighbor, just as the stranger went into his 
own room, and let the long curtain fall down after him. 


496 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


Next morning, the Learned Man went out to drink coffee 
and read the newspapers. 

“What is that?” said he, as he came out into the sun- 
shine. “I have no shadow! So, then, it has actually gone 
last night, and not come again. It is really tiresome !” 

This annoyed him: not so much because the shadow was 
gone, but because he knew there was a story about a man 
without a shadow.t. It was known to everybody at home, in 
the cold lands ; and if the Learned Man now came there and 
told his story, they would say that he was imitating it, and 
that he had no need to do. He would, therefore, not talk 
about it at all ; and that was wisely thought. 

In the evening, he went out again on the balcony. He had 
placed the light directly behind him, for he knew that the 


shadow would always have its master for a screen, but he could . 


not entice it. He made himself little ; he made himself great: 
but no shadow came again. He said, “Hem! hem!” but it 
was of no use. 

It was vexatious ; but in the warm lands everything grows 
so quickly ; and after the lapse of eight days he observed, to 
his great joy, that a new shadow came in the sunshine. In 
the course of three weeks he had a very fair shadow, which, 
when he set out for his home in the northern lands, grew more 
and more in the journey, so that at last it was so long and so 
large that it was more than sufficient. 

The Learned Man then came home, and he wrote books 
about what was true in the world, and about what was good, 
and what was beautiful ; and there passed days and years, — 
yes ! many years passed away. 

One evening, as he was sitting in his room, there was a 
gentle knocking at the door. 

“Come in!” said he; but no one came in; so he opened 
the door, and there stood before him such an extremely lean 
man, that he felt quite strange. As to the rest, the man was 
very finely dressed, — he must be a gentleman. 

“Whom have I the honor of speaking to?” asked the 
Learned Man. 

“Yes! I thought as much,” said the fine man. “I thought 

1 Peter Schlemihl, the Shadowless Man. 


ee. ee 


ee a ae oe 


THE SHADOW. 497 


you would not know me. I have got so much body. I have 
even got flesh and clothes. You certainly never thought of 
seeing me so well off. Do you not know your old Shadow? 
You certainly thought I should never more return. Things 
have gone on well with me since I was last with you. I have, 
in all respects, become very well off. Shall I purchase my 
freedom from service? If so, I can doit;” and then he rat- 
tled a whole bunch of valuable seals that hung to his watch, 
and he stuck his hand in the thick gold chain he wore around 
his neck ;— nay! how all his fingers glittered with diamond 
rings; and then all were pure gems. 

“Nay, I cannot recover from my surprise!” said the Learned 
Man: “what is the meaning of all this?” 

“ Something common it is not,” said the Shadow: “ but you 
yourself do not belong to the common order ; and I, as you 
know well, have from a child followed in your footsteps. As 
soon as you found I was capable to go out alone in the world, 
I went my own way. I am in the most brilliant circumstances, 
but there came a sort of desire over me to see you once more 
before you die ;—you will die, I suppose? I also wished to 
see this land again, — for you know we always love our native 
land. I know you have got another Shadow again; have I 
anything to pay to itor you? If so, you will oblige me by 
saying what it is.” 

“Nay, is it really thou?” said the Learned Man: “ it is most 
remarkable. I never imagined that one’s old shadow could 
come again as a man.” 

“Tell me what I have to pay,” said the Shadow ;: “ for I 
don’t like to be in any sort of debt.” 

“ How canst thou talk so?” said the Learned Man; “ what 
debt is there to talk about? Make thyself as free as any one 
else. I am extremely glad to hear of thy good fortune: sit 
down, old friend, and tell me a little how it has gone with 
thee, and what thou hast seen at our opposite neighbor’s 
there — in the warm lands.” 

“Yes, I will tell you all about it,” said the Shadow, and sat 
down: “but then you must also promise me, that, wherever 
you may meet me, you will never.say to any one here in the 

2 


498 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


town that I have been your shadow. I intend to get betrothed, 
for I can provide for more than one family.” 

“Be quite at thy ease about that,” said the Learned Man ; 
‘JT shall not say to any one who thou actually art ; here is my 
hand —TI promise it, and a man’s bond is his word.” 

‘‘ A word is a shadow,” said the Shadow, “and as such it 
must speak.” 

It was really quite astonishing how much of a man it was: 
It was dressed entirely in black, and of the very finest cloth ; 
it had patent leather boots, and a hat that could be folded to- 
gether, so that it was bare crown and brim ; not to speak of 
what we already know it had—seals, gold neck-chain, and 
diamond rings ; yes, the Shadow was well-dressed, and it was 
just that which made it quite a man. 

“ Now I shall tell you my adventures,” said the Shadow ; and 
then he sat, with the polished boots on, as heavily as he could 
on the arm of the Learned Man’s new shadow, which lay like 
a poodle-dog at his feet. Now this was perhaps from arro- 
gance ; and the shadow on the ground kept itself so still and 
quiet, that it might hear all that passed: it wished to know 
how it could get free, and work its way up, so as to become its 
own master. 

“Do you know who lived in our opposite neighbor’s 
house?” said the Shadow; “it was the most charming of all 
beings, it was Poetry! I was there for three weeks, and that 
has as much effect as if one had lived three thousand years, 
and read all that was composed and written ; that is what I 
say, and it is right. I have seen everything, and I know 
everything !” 

“ Poetry !” cried the Learned Man ; “ yes, yes, she is often an 
' anchoret in the large towns! Poetry! yes, I have seen her, 
—a single, short moment, but sleep came into my eyes! She 
stood on the balcony and shone as the aurora borealis shines. 
Go on, go on! —thou wert on the balcony, and went through 
the door-way, and then ” — 

“Then I was in the antechamber,” said the Shadow. “You 
always sat and looked over to the antechamber. There was 
no light ; there was a sort of twilight, but the one door stood 
open directly opposite the other through a long row of rooms 


THE SHADOW. 409 - 


and saloons, and there it was lighted up. I should have been 
completely killed if I had gone over to the maiden ; but I was 
circumspect, I took time to think, and that one must always 
do.” 

“And what didst thou then see?” asked the Learned Man. 

“T saw everything, and I shall tell all to you; but, —it is 
no pride on my part, — as a free man, and with the knowledge 
I have, not to speak of my position in life, my excellent cir- 
cumstances, —I certainly wish that you would say you? to 
mel.” . 

“TI beg your pardon,” said the Learned Man ; “it is an old 
habit with me. Yow are perfectly right, and I shall remember 
it; but now you must tell me all that you saw!” 

“‘ Everything !” said the Shadow, “ for I saw everything, and 
I know everything ! ” 

“ How did it look in the furthest saloon? ” asked the Learned 
Man. “Was it there as in the fresh woods? Was it there as 
in a holy church? Were the saloons like the starlit firmament 
when we stand on the high mountains? ” 

“Everything was there!” said the Shadow. “I did not 
go quite in; I remained in the foremost room, in the twilight, 
but I stood there quite well; I saw everything, and I know 
everything! I have been in the antechamber at the court of 
Poetry.” 

“ But what did yousee? Did all the gods of the olden times 
pass through the large saloons? Did the old heroes combat 
there? Did sweet children play there, and relate their 
dreams?” ' 

1 Tt is the custom in Denmark for intimate acquaintances to use the second 
person singular “Du” (thou) when speaking to each other. When a 
friendship is ormed between men, they generally affirm it, when occasion 
offers, either in public or private, by drinking to each other and exclaiming, 
“ Thy health,” at the same time striking their glasses together. This is 
called drinking “ Dzzs :”? — they are then, “ Dus Brodre” (thou brothers), 
and ever afterwards use the pronoun “ ¢#ow” to each other, it being regarded 
as more familiar than ‘ De” (you). Father and mother, sister and brother, 
say ¢how to one another, without regard to age or rank. Master and 
mistress say ¢ow to their servants — the superior to the inferior. But ser- 
vants and inferiors do not use the same term to their masters, or superiors 


—nor is it ever used when speaking to a stranger, or any one with whom 
they are but slightly acquainted ; they then say, as in English — you, 


500 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


“T tell you I was there, and you can conceive that I saw 
everything there was to be seen. Had you come over there, 
you would not have been a man; but I became so! And _be- 
sides, I learned to know my inward nature, my innate qualities, 
the relationship I had with Poetry. At the time I was with 
you, I thought not of that, but always — you know it well — 
when the sun rose, and when the sun went down, I became 
so strangely great ; in the moonlight I was very near being 
more distinct than yourself; at that time I did not understand 
my nature ; it was revealed to me in the antechamber! I be- 
came a man! I came out matured; but you were no longer 
in the warm lands: as a man I was ashamed to go as I did. 
I was in want of boots, of clothes, of the whole human varnish 
that makes aman perceptible. I took my way —I tell it to 
you, but you will not put it in any book—lI took my way to 
the cake woman —I hid myself behind her ; the woman didn’t 
think how much she concealed. I went out first in the even- 
ing ; | ran about the streets in the moonlight ; I made myself 
long up the walls — it tickles the back so delightfully! I ran 
up, and I ran down, peeped into the highest windows, into the 
saloons, and on the roofs. I peeped in where no one could 
peep, and I saw what no one else saw, what no one should 
see! This is, in fact, a base world! I would not be a man if 
it were not now once accepted and regarded as something to 
be so! I saw the most unimaginable things with the women, 
with the men, with parents, and with the sweet, matchless 
children; I saw,” said the Shadow, “what no human being 
must know, but what they would all so willingly know — what 
is bad in their neighbor. Had I written a newspaper, it 
would have been read! but I wrote direct to the persons them- 
selves, and there was consternation in all the towns where I 
came. ‘They were so afraid of me, and yet they were so ex- 
cessively fond of me. The professors made a professor of me ; 
the tailors gave me new clothes—I am well furnished ; the 
master of the mint struck new coin for me, and the women said 
I was so handsome! and so I became the man I am. And I 
now bid you farewell ;— here is my card — I live on the sunny 
side of the street, and am always at home in rainy weather!” 
And'‘so away went the Shadow. 


x, 


LHE SHADOW. 501 


“That was most extraordinary!” said the Learned Man. 
Years and days passed away, then the Shadow came again. 
“How goes it?” said the Shadow. 

“ Alas!” said the Learned Man, “ I write about the true, and 
the good, and the beautiful, but no one cares to hear such 
things! I am quite desperate, for I take it so much to heart! ” 

“But I don’t!” said the Shadow ; “I become fat, and it is 
that one wants to become! You do not understand the world. 
You will become ill by it. You must travel! I shall make a tour 
this summer ; will you go with me? I should like to have a 
travelling companion! will you go with me, as shadow? It 
will be a great pleasure for me to have you with me, —I shall 
pay the travelling expenses !” 

“Nay, this is too much!” said the Learned Man. 

“Tt is just as one takes it,” said the Shadow. “It will do 
you much good to travel !— will you be my shadow ?—yon 
shall have everything free on the journey !” 

“Nay, that is too bad!” said the Learned Man. 

“But it is just so with the world!” said the Shadow, “and 
so it will be!” and away it went again. 

The Learned Man was not at all in the most enviable state ; 
grief and torment followed him, and what he said about the 
true, and the good, and the beautiful was, to most persons, like 
roses for a cow ! — he was quite ill at last. 

“You really look like a shadow!” said his friends to him ; 
and the Learned Man trembled, for he thought of it. 

“You must go to a watering-place !” said the Shadow, who 
came and visited him ; “ there is nothing else for it! I will take 
you with me for old acquaintance sake ; I will pay the travel- 
ling expenses, and you write the descriptions —and you may 
make them amusing if you please. I will go to a watering 
place, —my beard does not grow out as it ought — that is also 
a sickness, and one must have abeard. Now you be wise and 
accept the offer ; we shall travel as comrades !” 

And so they travelled ; the Shadow was master, and the mas- 
ter was the Shadow ; they drove with each other, they rode and 
walked together, side by side, before and behind, just as the 
sun was ; the Shadow always took care to keep itself in the — 
master’s place. Now the Learned Man didn’t think much 


502 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


about that ; he was a very kind-hearted man, and particularly 
mild and friendly, and so he said one day to the Shadow: “ As 
we have now become companions, and in this way have grown 
up together from childhood, shall we not drink ‘ ¢hou’ together ? 
it is more familiar.” 

“Vou are right!” said the Shadow, who was now the proper 
master. ‘It is said in a very straightforward and well-meant 
manner. You, as a learned man, certainly know how strange 
nature is. Some perscns cannot bear to touch gray paper, or 
they become ill ; others shiver in every limb if one rub a pane 
of glass with a nail: I have just such a feeling on hearing you 
say thou to me ; I feel myself as if pressed to the earth in my 
first situation with you. You see that it is a feeling ; that it is 
not pride: I cannot allow you to say ¢hou to me, but I will 
willingly say ¢#ouw to you, so it is half done!” 

So the Shadow said ¢#ou to its former master. 

“This is rather too bad,” thought he, “that I must ‘say you 
and he say ¢fou,” but he was now obliged to put up with it. 

So they came to a watering-place where there were many 
strangers, and amongst them was a princess who was troubled 
with seeing too well ; and that was so alarming ! 

She directly observed that the stranger who had just come 
was quite a different sort of person to all the others: “He 
has come here in order to get his beard to grow, they say ; but 
I see the real cause, he cannot cast a shadow.” 

She had become inquisitive ; and so she entered into con- 
versation directly with the strange gentleman, on their prom- 
enades. As the daughter of a king, she needed not to stand 
upon trifles, so she said, “Your complaint is, that you cannot 
cast a shadow?” 

“Your royal highness must be improving considerably,” said 
the Shadow. “I know your complaint is, that you see too 
clearly ; but it has decreased, you are cured. I just happen to 
have a very unusual shadow! Do you not see that person 
who always goes with me? Other persons have a common 
shadow, but I do not like what is common to all. We give our 
servants finer cloth for their livery than we ourselves use, and 
so I had my shadow trimmed up into a man: yes, you see I 
have even given him a shadow. It is somewhat expensive, 
but I like to have something for myself!” 


THE SHADOW. 503 


“What!” thought the Princess, “should I really be cured! 
These baths are the first in the world! In our time water 
has wonderful powers. But I shall not leave the place, for it 
now begins to be amusing here. I am extremely fond of that 
stranger. Would that his beard should not grow! for in that 
case he wi!l leave us.” 

In the evening the Princess and the Shadow danced together 
in the large ball-room. She was light, but he was still lighter ; 
she had never had such a partner in the dance. She told him 
from what land she came, and he knew that land; he had 
been there, but then she was not at home ; he had peeped in 
at the window above and below —he had seen both the one 
and the other, and so he could answer the Princess, and make 
insinuations, so that she was quite astonished ; he must be the 
wisest man in the whole world! she felt such respect for what 
he knew! So that when they again danced together she fell 
in love-with him ; and that the Shadow could remark, for she 
_ almost pierced him through with her eyes. So they danced 
once more together ; and she was about to declare herself, but 
she was discreet ; she thought of her country and kingdom, 
and of the many persons she would have to reign over. 

“He is a wise man,” said she to herself — “it is well; and 
he dances delightfully —that is also good; but has he solid 
knowledge ? — that is just as important !— he must be exam- 
ined.” 

So she began, by degrees, to question him about the most 
difficult things she could think of, and which she herself could 
not have answered ; so that the Shadow made a strange face. 

“ You cannot answer these questions?” said the Princess. 

“They belong to my childhood’s learning,” said the Shadow. 
“I really believe my shadow, by the door there, can answer 
them !” 

“Your shadow!” said the Princess ; “that would indeed 
be marvelous!” 

“T will not say for a certainty that he can,” said the Shadow, 
“ but I think so ; he has now followed me for so many years, 
- and listened to my conversation —I should think it possible. 
But your royal highness will permit me to observe, that he is 
so proud of passing himself off for a man, that when he is 


504 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


to be in a proper humor — and he must be so to answer well 
— he must be treated quite like a man.” 

“©! I like that!” said the Princess. : 

So she went to the Learned Man by the door, and she spoke 


with him about the sun and the moon, and about persons out 


of and in the world, and he answered with wisdom and pru- 
dence. 

“What a man that must be who has so wise a shadow!” 
thought she ; “it will be a real blessing for my people and 
kingdom if I choose him for my consort —I will do it!” 

‘ They were soon agreed, both the Princess and the Shadow ; 
but no one was to know about it before she arrived in her-own 
kingdom. 

“No one —not even my shadow!” said the Shadow ; and 
he had his own thoughts about it! 

Now they were in the country where the Princess lived 
when she was at home. | 

“Listen, my good friend!” said the Shadow to the toned 
Man. “I have now become as happy and mighty as any one 
can be; I will, therefore, do something particular for thee! 
Thou shalt always live with me in the palace, drive with me in 
my royal carriage, and have ten thousand pounds a-year ; but 
then thou must submit to be called shadow by all and every 
one ; thou must not say that thou hast ever been a man; and 
once a year, when I sit on the balcony in the sunshine, thou 
must lie at my feet, as a shadow shalldo! I must tell thee: 
I am going to marry the king’s daughter, and the nals are 
to take place this evening!” 

“Nay, this is going too far!” said the Learned Man ; “ I will 
not have it ; I will not doit! It isto deceive the whole coun- 
try and the Princess too! I will tell everything! — that I am a 
man and that thou art a shadow — thou art only dressed up!” 

“There is no one who will believe it!” said the Shadow ; 
“be reasonable, or I will call the guard!” 

‘T will go directly to the Princess !” said the Learned Man. 

“ But I will go first!” said the Shadow, “ and thou wilt go to 
prison!’ and that he was obliged to do — for the sentinels 
obeyed him whom they knew the king’s daughter was to marry. 

“You tremble ! ” said the Princess, as the Shadow came into 


ee 


THE SHADOW. 505 


her chamber ; “has anything happened? You must not be 
unwell this evening, now that we are to have our nuptials cele- 
brated.” | 

“] have lived to see the most cruel thing that any one can. 
live to see!” said the Shadow. ‘Only imagine — yes, it is 
true, such a poor shadow-skull cannot bear much — only think, 
my shadow has become mad: he thinks that he is a man, and 
that I — now only think — that I am his shadow!” 

“Tt is terrible!” said the Princess ; “but he is confined, is 
he aot? 

“That he is. I am afraid that he will never recover.” 

“Poor shadow !”’ said the Princess, “he is very unfortu- 


“nate; it would be a real work of charity to deliver him from 


the little life he has, and when I think properly over the mat- 
ter, 1 am of opinion that it will be necessary to do away with 
him in all stillness!” 

“Tt is certainly hard!” said the Shadow, “for he was a 
faithful servant !” and then he gave a sort of sigh. 

“You are a noble character!” said: the Princess. 

The whole city was illuminated in the evening, and the 
cannons went off with a bum! bum! and the soldiers pre- 
sented arms. That was a marriage! ‘The Princess and the 
Shadow went out on the peony to show themselves, and get 
another hurrah! 

The Learned Man heard nothing of all this — for they had 
deprived him of life. 


506 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


THE RED SHOES: 


HERE was once a little girl,—a very nice, pretty little 

girl. But in summer she had to go barefoot, because 
she was poor, and in winter she wore thick wooden shoes, so 
that her little instep became quite red, altogether red. 

In the middle of the village lived an old shoemaker’s wife ; 
she sat and sewed, as well as she could, a pair of little shoes, 
of old strips of red cloth; they were clumsy enough, but well 
meant, and the little girl was to have them. The little girl’s 
name was Karen. 

On the day when her mother was buried she received the 
red shoes and wore them for the first time. They were cer- 
tainly not suited for mourning ; but she had no others, and 
therefore thrust her little bare feet into them and walked 
behind the plain deal coffin. 

Suddenly a great carriage came by, and in the carriage sat 
an old lady: she looked at the little girl and felt pity for her, 
and said to the clergyman, — 

‘Give me the little girl, and I will provide for her.” 

Karen thought this was for the sake of the shoes ; but the 
Old Lady declared they were hideous ; and they were burned. 
But Karen herself was clothed neatly and properly: she was 
taught to read and to sew, and the people said she was agree- 


able. But her mirror said, “ You are much more than agreea- 


ble ; you are beautiful.” 

Once the Queen travelled through the country, and had her 
little daughter with her; and the daughter was a Princess. 
And the people flocked toward the castle, and Karen too 


- 


LHe OY SHOLS, BOY 


was among them ; and the little Princess stood in a fine white 
dress at a window, and let herself be gazed at. She had 
neither train nor golden crown, but she wore splendid red mo- 
rocco shoes ; they were certainly far handsomer than those 
the shoemaker’s wife had made for little Karen. Nothing 
in the world can compare with red shoes ! ; 

Now Karen was old enough to be confirmed: new clothes 
were made for her, and she was to have new shoes. ‘The rich 
shoemaker in the town took the measure of her little feet ; 
this was done in his own house, in his little room, and there 
stood great glass cases with neat shoes and shining boots. It 
had quite a charming appearance, but the Old Lady could not 
see well, and therefore took no pleasure in it. Among the 
shoes stood a red pair, just like those which the Princess 
had worn. How beautiful they were! The shoemaker also 
said they had been made for a count’s child, but they had not 
fitted. 

“That must be patent leather,” observed the Old Lady, 
“the shoes shine so !” 

“Yes, they shine!” replied Karen ; and they fitted her, and 
were bought. But the Old Lady did not know that they were 
red ; for she would never have allowed Karen to go to her 
Confirmation in red shoes ; and that is what Karen did. 

Every one was looking at her shoes. And when she went 
across the church porch, toward the door of the choir, it 
seemed to her as if the old pictures on the tombstones, the 
portraits of clergymen and clergymen’s wives, in their stiff col- 
lars and long black garments, fixed their eyes upon her red 
shoes. And she thought of her shoes only, when the priest 
laid his hand upon her head and spoke holy words. And the 
organ pealed solemnly, the children sang with their fresh sweet 
voices, and the old precentor sang too ; but Karen thought 
only of her red shoes. 

In the afternoon the Old Lady was informed by every one 
that the shoes were red ; and she said it was naughty and un- 
suitable, and that when Karen went to church in future, she 
should always go in black shoes, even if they were old. 

Next Sunday was Sacrament Sunday. And Karen looked 


508 ANDERSEN'S WONDER STORIES. 


at the black shoes, and looked at the red ones — looked at 
them again — and put on the red ones. 

The sun shone gloriously ; Karen and the Old Lady went 
along the foot-path through the fields, and it was rather dusty. 

By the church door stood an old invalid soldier with a 
crutch and a long beard ; the beard was rather red than white, 
for it was red altogether ; and he bowed down almost to the 
ground, and asked the Old Lady if he might dust her shoes. 
And Karen also stretched out her little foot. 

“Look, what pretty dancing shoes!” said the Old Soldier. 
“Fit so tightly when you dance ! ” 

And he tapped the soles with his hand. And the Old Lady 
gave the Soldier an alms, and went into the church with Ka- 
ren. 

And every one in the church looked at Karen’s red shoes, 
and all the pictures looked at them. And while Karen knelt 
in the church she only thought of her red shoes ; and she for- 
got to sing her psalm, and forgot to say her prayer. 

Now all the people went out of church, and the Old Lady 
stepped into her carriage. Karen lifted up her foot to step in 
too; then the Old Soldier said, — 

“Look, what beautiful dancing shoes!” 

And Karen could not resist: she was obliged to dance a 
few steps ; and when she once began, her legs went on dan- 
cing. It was just as though the shoes had obtained power over 
her. She danced round the corner of the church — she could 
not help it; the coachman was obliged to run behind her and 
seize her: he lifted her into the carriage, but her feet went on 
dancing, so that she kicked the good Old Lady violently. At 
last they took off her shoes and her legs became quiet. 

At home the shoes were put away in a cupboard ; but Karen 
could not resist looking at them. 

Now the Old Lady became very ill, and it was said she would 
not recover. She had to be nursed and waited on; and this 
was no one’s duty so much as Karen’s. But there was to be 
a great ball in the town, and Karen was invited. She looked 
at the Old Lady who could not recover ; she looked at the red 
shoes, and thought there would be no harm in it. She put on 


THEO RED. SHOES. 509 


the shoes, ana that she might very well do; _but they went to 
the ball and began to dance. 

But when she wished to go to the right hand, the shoes 
danced to the left, and when she wanted to go up-stairs the 
shoes danced downward, down into the street and out at the 
town gate. She danced, and was obliged to dance, straight 
out into the dark wood. 

There was something glistening up among the trees, and 
she thought it was the moon, for she saw a face. But it was 
the Old Soldier with the red beard: he sat and nodded, and 
said, — 

‘Look, what beautiful aes shoes !” 

Then she was frightened, and wanted to throw away the 
-red shoes ; but they clung fast to her. And she tore off her 
stockings: but the shoes had grown fast to her feet. And she 
danced and was compelled to go dancing over field and mead- 
Ow, in rain and sunshine, by night and by day ; but it was 
most dreadful at night. 

She danced out into the open church-yard ; but the dead 
there do not dance ; they have far better things to do. She 
wished to sit down on the poor man’s grave, where the bitter 
fern grows ; but there was no peace nor rest for her. And 
when she danced toward the open church door, she saw there 
an angel in long white garments, with wings that reached 
from his shoulders to his feet ; his countenance was serious 
and stern, and in his hand he held a sword that was broad 
and gleaming. 

“Thou shalt dance!” he said — “dance on thy red shoes, 
till thou art pale and cold, and till thy body shrivels to a skel- 
eton. Thou shalt dance from door to door; and where 
proud, haughty children dwell, shalt thou knock, that they 
may hear thee, and be afraid of thee! Thou shalt dance, 
dance !” 

“Mercy!” cried Karen. 

But she did not hear what the Angel answered, for the shoes 
carried her away —carried her through the door on to the 
field, over stock and stone, and she was. always obliged to 
dance. 


SO ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


One morning she danced past a door which she knew well. 
There was a sound of psalm-singing within, and a coffin was 
carried out, adorned with flowers. Then-she knew that the 
Old Lady was dead, and she felt that she was deserted by all, 
and condemned by the Angel of heaven. 7 

She danced, and was compelled to dance — to dance in the 
dark night. The shoes carried her on over thorn and brier ; 
she scratched herself till she bled ; she danced away across 
the heath to a little lonely house. Here she knew the execu- 
tioner dwelt ; and she tapped with her fingers on the panes, 
and called, — 

“Come out, come out! I cannot come in, for I must 
dance!” 

And the Executioner said, — 

“You probably don’t know who I am? I cut off the bad 
people’s heads with my axe, and mark how my axe rings! ” 

‘“ Do not strike off my head,” said Karen, “for if you do I 
cannot repent of my sin. But strike off my feet with the red 
shoes ! ” 

And then she confessed all her sin, and the Executioner cut 
off her feet with the red shoes ; but the shoes danced away 
with the little feet over the fields and into the deep forest. 

And he cut her a pair of wooden feet, with crutches, and 
taught her a psalm, which the criminals always sing ; and she 
kissed the hand that had held the axe, and went away across 
the heath. : 

‘Now I have suffered pain enough for the red shoes,” said 
she. ‘ Now I will go into the church, that they may see me.” 

And she went quickly toward the church door; but when 
she came there the red shoes danced before her, so that she 
was frightened and turned back. 

The whole week through she was sorrowful, and wept many 
bitter tears ; but when Sunday came, she said, — 

“ Now I have suffered and striven enough! I think that I 
am just as good as many of those who sit in the church and 
carry their heads high.” 

And then she went boldly on ; but she did not get farther 
than the church-yard gate before she saw the red shoes dan- 


1HE RED: SHOES: it 


cing along before her: then she was seized with terror, and 
turned back, and repented of her sin right heartily. 

And she went to the parsonage, and begged to be taken 
there as a servant. She promised to be industrious, and to 
do all she could: she did not care for wages, and only wished 
to be under a roof and with good people. The clergyman’s 
wife pitied her, and took her into her service. And she was 
industrious and thoughtful. Silently she sat and listened when 
in the evening the pastor read the Bible aloud. All the little 
ones were very fond of her ; but when they spoke of dress and 
splendor and beauty she would shake her head. 

Next Sunday they all went to church, and she was asked if 
she wished to go too ; but she looked sadly, with tears in her 
eyes, at her crutches. And then the others went to hear 
God’s word ; but she went alone into her little room, which 
was only large enough to contain her bed and a chair. And 
here she sat with her hymn-book ; and as she read it with a 
pious mind, the wind bore the notes of the organ over to her 
from the church; and she lifted up her face, wet with tears, 
and’said, — —_¢ 

*O Lord, help me!” 

Then the sun shone so brightly ; and before her stood the 
Angel in the white garments, the same she had seen that night 
at the church door. But he no longer grasped the sharp 
sword: he held a green branch covered with roses ; and he 
touched the ceiling, and it rose up high and wherever he 
touched it a golden star gleamed forth; and he touched the 
walls, and they spread forth widely, and she saw the organ 
which was pealing its rich sounds; and she saw the old pic- 
_ tures of clergymen and their wives ; and the congregation sat 
in the decorated seats, and sang from their hymn-books. The 
church had come to the poor girl in her narrow room, or her 
chamber had become a church. She sat in the chair with the 
rest of the clergyman’s people; and when they had finished 
the psalm, and looked up, they nodded and said, — 

“That was right, that you came here, Karen.” 

“Tt was mercy !” said she. 

And the organ sounded its glorious notes; and the chil- 


512 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORiZS. 


dren’s voices singing in chorus sounded sweet and lovely ; 
the clear sunshine streamed so warm through the window 
upon the chair in which Karen sat; and her heart became so 
filled with sunshine, peace, and joy that it broke. Her soul 
flew on the sunbeams to heaven; and there was nobody who 
asked after the RED SHOEs } 


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Pe eoVAILOAND TTL ROSE-LTREE. anes 


THE SNAIL AND THE ROSE-TREE. 


ROUND the garden ran a hedge of hazels ; beyond this 
hedge lay fields and meadows, wherein were cows and 
sheep ; but in the midst of the garden stood a blooming Rose- 
tree; and under this Rose-tree lived a Snail, who had a 
good deal in his shell — namely, himself. 

“Wait till my time comes!” he said: ‘“‘I shall do some- 
thing more than produce roses, bear nuts, or give milk, like 
the Rose-tree, the hazel-bush, and the cows!” 

“T expect a great deal of you,” said the Rose-tree. “ But 
may I ask when it will appear?” 

““T take my time,” replied the Snail. ‘ You’re always in 
such a hurry. You don’t rouse people’s interest by sus- 
pense.” 

When the next year came, the Snail lay almost in the same 
spot, in the sunshine under the Rose-tree, which again bore 
buds that bloomed into roses, until the snow fell and the 
weather became raw and cold; then the Rose-tree bowed its 
head and the Snail crept into the ground. 

A new year began; and the roses came out,.and the Snail 
came out also. 

“You're an old Rose-tree now!” said the Snail. “You 
must make haste and come to an end, for you have given the 
world all that was in you: whether it was of any use is a 
question that I have had no time to consider ; but so much is 
clear and plain, that you have done nothing at all for your 
own development, or you would have produced something 
else. How can you answer for that? In a little time you 
will be nothing at all but a stick. Do you understand what I 
say?” 

“You alarm me!” replied the Rose-tree. “I never thought 
of that at all.” . 

“No, you have not taken the trouble to consider anything. 
Have you ever given an account to yourself, why you bloomed, 
and how it is that your blooming comes about — why it is 
thus, and not otherwise? ” 

33 


514 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 

“No,” answered the Rose-tree. “I bloomed in gladness, 
because I could not do anything else. The sun shone and 
warmed me, and the air refreshed me. I drank the pure dew 
and the fresh rain, and I lived, I breathed. Out of the earth 
there arose a power within me; from above there came down 
a strength: I perceived a new ever-increasing happiness, and 
consequently I was obliged to bloom over and over again: 
that was my life ; I could not do otherwise.” 

“You have led a pleasant life,” observed the Snail. 

“Certainly. Everything I have was given to me,” said the 
Rose-tree. “But more still was given to you. You are one 
of those deep thoughtful characters, one of those highly gifted 
spirits, which will cause the world to marvel.” 

“T’ve no intention of doing anything of the kind,” cried the 
Snail. “The world is nothing to me. What have I to do 
with the world? I have enough of myself and.in myself.” 


“‘ But must we not all, here on earth, give to others the best _. 


_we have, and offer what les in our power? Certainly I have 

only given roses. But you—you who have been so richly 
gifted —what have you given to the world? what do you in- 
tend to give?” . 

“What have I given— what do I intend to give? [I spit at 
it. It’s worth nothing. It’s no business of mine. Continue 
to give your roses, if you like: you can’t do any better. Let 
the hazel-bush bear nuts, and the cows and the ewes give 
milk : they have their public ; but I have mine within myself 
—I retire within myself, and there ] remain. The world is 
nothing to me.” And so saying the Snail retired into his 
house, and closed up the entrance after him. 

“That is very sad!” said the Rose-tree. “I cannot creep 
into myself, even if I wished it; I must continue to produce 
roses. ‘They drop their leaves, and are blown away by the 
wind. But I saw how a rose was laid in the matron’s hymn- 
book, and one of my roses had a place on the bosom of a fair 
young girl, and another was kissed by the lips of a child in 
the full joy of life. That did me good ; it was a real blessing. 
That’s my remembrance — my life ! ” 

And the Rose-tree went on blooming in innocence, while. 
the Snail lay and idled away his time in his house —the 
world did not concern him. 


THE SNAIL AND THE ROSE-TREE. 515 


And years rolled by. | 

The Snail had become dust in the dust, and the Rose-tree 
was earth in the earth ; the rose of remembrance in the hymn- 
book was faded, but in the garden bloomed fresh rose-trees, 
and under the trees lay new snails; and these still crept into 
their houses, and spat at the world, for it did not concern 
them. 


Suppose we begin the story again, and read it right through. 
It will never alter. 


ng 
| 


= 
F 
ry 


LITTLE IDA’S FLOWERS. 


Y poor flowers are quite dead!” said little Ida. “They 
were so pretty yesterday, and now all the leaves hang 
withered. Why do they do that?” she asked the student, 
who sat on the sofa ; for she liked him very much. He knew 
the prettiest stories, and could cut out the most amusing 
pictures: hearts, with little ladies in them who danced ; flow- 
ers, and great castles in which one could open the doors ; he 
was a merry student. ‘“ Why do the flowers look so faded to- 
day?” she asked again, and showed him a nosegay, which 
was quite withered. 

“Do you know what’s the matter with them?” said the 
Student. “The flowers have been at a ball last night, and 
that’s why they hang their heads.” 

“ But flowers cannot dance!” cried little Ida. 

“O yes,” said the Student, “ when it grows dark, and we 
are asleep, they jump about merrily. Almost every night they 
have a ball.” 

“Can children go to this ball?” 

“Ves,” said the Student, “ quite little daisies, and lilies of 
the valley.” 


LITTLE IDA’S FLOWERS. 517 


“Where do the beautiful flowers dance?” asked Ida. 

“Have you not often been outside the town gate, by the 
great castle, where the king lives in summer, and where the 
beautiful garden is with all the flowers? You have seen the 
swans, which swim up to you when you want to give them 
bread crumbs? ‘There are capital balls there, believe me.” 

“I was out there in the garden yesterday, with my mother,” 
said Ida; “ but all the leaves were off the trees, and there 
was not one flower left. Where are they? In the summer I 
saw so many.” 

“They are within, in the castle,’ replied the Student. 
“You must know, as soon as the king and all the court go to 
town, the flowers run out of the garden into the castle and are 
merry. You should see that. The two most beautiful roses 
seat themselves on the throne, and then they are king and 
queen ; all the red coxcombs range themselves on either side, 
and stand and bow; they are the chamberlains. ‘Then all 
the pretty flowers come, and there is a great ball. The blue 
violets represent little naval cadets ; they dance with hyacinths 
and crocuses, which they call young ladies; the tulips and 
the great tiger-lilies are old ladies who keep watch that the 
dancing is well done, and that everything goes on with pro- 
priety.” 

“ But,” asked little Ida, “is nobody there who hurts the 
flowers, for dancing in the king’s castle?” 

“There is- nobody who really knows about it,” answered 
the Student. ‘Sometimes, certainly, the old steward’ of the 
castle comes at night, and he has to watch there. He has a 
great bunch of keys with him; but as soon as the flowers 
hear the keys rattle they are quite quiet, hide behind the long 
curtains, and only poke their heads out. Then the old stew- 
ard says, ‘I smell that there are flowers here,’ but he cannot 
see them.” | 

“That is famous!” cried little Ida, clapping her hands. 
“But should not I be able to see the flowers ?” 

“Yes,” said the Student: “only remember, when you go 
out again, to peep through the window; then you will ‘see 
them. ‘That is what I did to-day. There was a long yellow 
lily lying on the sofa and stretching herself. She was a court 
lady.” 


518 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


‘Can the flowers out of the Botanical Garden get there 
Can they go the long distance?” 

“Yes, certainly,” replied the Student ; “if they like they 
can fly. Have you not seen the beautiful butterflies — red, yel- 
low, and white? They almost look like flowers; and that is 
what they have been. They have flown off their stalks high 
into the air, and have beaten it with their leaves, as if these 
leaves were little wings, and thus they flew. And because 
they behaved themselves well, they got leave to fly about in 
the day-time too, and were not obliged to sit still upon their 
stalks at home; and thus at last the leaves became real 
wings. ‘That you have seen yourself. It may be, however, 
that the flowers in the Botanical Garden have never been in 
the king’s castle, or that they don’t know of the merry pro- 
ceedings there at night. Therefore I will tell you something : 
he will be very much surprised, the botanical professor, who 
lives close by here. You know him, do you not? When you — 
come into his garden, you must tell one of the flowers that 
there is a great ball yonder in the castle. Then that flower 
will tell it to all the rest, and then they will fly away: when 
the professor comes out into the garden, there will not bea 
single flower left, and he won’t be able to make out where 
they are gone.” 

“But how can one flower tell it to another? For, you know, 
flowers cannot speak.” 

“That they cannot, certainly,” replied the Student; “but 
then they make signs. Have you not noticed that when the 
wind blows a little, the flowers nod at one another, and move 
all their green leaves? ‘They can understand that just as well 
as we when we speak together.” 

“Can the professor understand these signs?” asked Ida. 

“Yes, certainly. He came one morning into his garden, 
and saw a great stinging-nettle standing there, and making 
signs to a beautiful red carnation with its leaves. It was say- 
ing, ‘You are so pretty, and I love you with all my heart.’ 
But the professor does not like that kind of thing, and he di- 
rectly slapped the stinging-nettle upon its leaves, for those are 
its fingers ; but he stung himself, and since that time he has 
not dared to touch a stinging-nettle.” 


LAL ISLE CLDAS FLOWERS, 519 


“That is funny,” cried little Ida ; and she laughed. 

“ How can any one put such notions into a child’s head ?”’ 
said the tiresome Privy Councilor, who had come to pay a visit, 
and was sitting on the sofa. He did not like the Student, and 
always grumbled when he saw him cutting out the merry, funny 
pictures — sometimes a man hanging on a gibbet and holding 
a heart in his hand, to show that he stole hearts ; sometimes 
an old witch riding on a broom, and carrying her husband on 
her nose. The Councilor could not bear this, and then he 
said, just as he did now, *‘ How can any one put such notions 
into a child’s head? ‘Those are stupid fancies!” 

But to little Ida, what the Student told about her flowers 
seemed very droll; and she thought much about it. The 
flowers hung their heads, for they were tired because they had 
danced all night ; they were certainly ill. ‘Then she went with 
them to her other toys, which stood on a pretty little table, and 
the whole drawer was full of beautiful things. In the doll’s 
bed lay her doll Sophy, asleep ; but little Ida said to her, — 

“You must really get up, Sophy, and manage to lie in the 
drawer for to-night. ‘The poor flowers are ill, and they must 
lie in your bed ; perhaps they will then get well again.” 

And she at once took the doll out ; but the doll looked cross, | 
and did not say a single word ; for she was cross because she 
could not keep her own bed. 

Then Ida laid the flowers in the doll’s bed, pulled ‘the little 
coverlet quite up over them, and said they were to lie still and 
be good, and she would make them some tea, so that they 
might get well again, and be able to get up to-morrow. And 
she drew the curtains closely round the little bed, so that the 
sun should not shine in their eyes. ‘The whole evening through 
she could not help thinking of what the Student had told her. 
And when she was going to bed herself, she was obliged first 
to look behind the curtains which hung before the windows 
where her mother’s beautiful flowers stood — hyacinths as well 
as tulips ; then she whispered, “I know you are going to the 
ball to-night!” But the flowers made as if they did not un- 
derstand a word, and did not stir aleaf; but still little Ida 
knew what she knew. 

When she was in bed she lay for a long time thinking how 


520 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


pretty it must be to see the beautiful flowers dancing out in 
the king’s castle. ‘I wonder if my flowers have really been 
there?” And then she fell asleep. In the night she woke up 
again: she had dreamed of the flowers, and of the Student 
with whom the Councilor found fault. It was quite quiet in 
the bedroom where Ida lay; the night-lamp burned on the 
table, and father and mother were asleep. 

“T wonder if my flowers are still lying in Sophy’s bed?” she 
thought to herself. ‘“ How I should like to know it!” She 
raised herself a little, and looked at the door, which stood ajar: 
within lay the flowers and all her playthings. She listened, 
and then it seemed to her as if she heard some one playing on 
the piano in the next room, but quite softly and prettily, as she 
had never heard it before. 

‘Now all the flowers are certainly dancing in there!” 
thought she. “O, how glad I should be to see it!” But 
she dared not get up, for she would have disturbed her father 
and mother. 

“Tf they would only come in!” thought she. But the flow- 
ers did not come, and the music continued to play beautifully ; 
then she could not bear it any longer, for it was too pretty ; 
she crept out of her little bed, and went quietly to the door, 
and looked into the room. 

O, how splendid it was, what she saw! 

There was no night-lamp burning, but still it was quite light : 
the moon shone through the window into the middle of the 
floor ; it was almost like day. All the hyacinths and tulips 
stood in two long rows in the room; there were none at all 
left at the window — there stood the empty flower-pots. On 
the floor all the flowers were dancing very gracefully round 
each other, making perfect turns, and holding each other 
by the long green leaves as they swung round. But at the 
piano sat a great yellow lily, which little Ida had certainly seen 
in summer, for she remembered how the Student had said, 
“How like that one is to Miss Lina.” Then he had been 
iaughed at by all; but now it seemed really to little Ida .as 
if the long, yellow flower looked like the young lady ; and it 
had just her manners in playing — sometimes bending its long, 
yellow face to one side, sometimes to the other, and nodding in 


LITTLE IDA’S FLOWERS. S21 


tune to the charming music! No one noticed little Ida. Then 
she saw a great blue crocus hop into the middle of the table, 
where the toys stood, and go to the doll’s bed and pull the 
curtains aside; there lay the sick flowers, but they got up di- 
rectly, and nodded to the others, to say that they wanted to 
dance too. The old Chimney-sweep doll, whose under lip was 
broken off, stood up and bowed to the pretty flowers: these 
did not look at all ill now; they jumped down to the others, 
and were very merry. 3 

Then it seemed as if something fell down from the table. 
Ida looked that way. It was the birch rod which was jump- 
ing down! it seemed almost as if it belonged to the flowers. 
At any rate it was very neat ; and a little wax doll, with just 
such a broad hat on its head as the Councilor wore, sat upon 
it. The birch rod hopped about among the flowers on its 
three legs, and stamped quite loud, for it was dancing the 
mazourka ; and the other flowers could not manage that 
dance, because they were too light, and unable to stamp like 
that. 

The wax doll on the birch rod all at once became quite great 
and long, turned itself over the paper flowers, and said, “ How 
can one put such things in a child’s head? those are stupid 
fancies!” and then the wax doll was exactly like the Coun- | 
cilor with the broad hat, and looked just as yellow and cross 
as he. But the paper flowers hit him on his thin legs, and 
then he shrank up again, and became quite a little wax doll. 
That was very amusing to see; and little Ida could not re- 
strain her laughter. The birch rod went on dancing, and the 
Councilor was obliged to dance too ; it was no use, he might 
make himself great and long, or remain the little yellow wax 
doll with the big black hat. Then the other flowers put in a 
good word for him, especially those who had lain in the doll’s 
bed, and then the birch rod gave over. At the same moment 
there was a loud knocking at the drawer, inside where Ida’s 
doll, Sophy, lay with many other toys. The Chimney-sweep 
ran to the edge of the table, lay flat down on his stomach, and 
began to pull the drawer out a little. Then Sophy raised her- 
self, and looked round quite astonished. 

“There must be a ball here,” said she ; “ why did nobody 
fell: me ?”’ 


22 ANDERSEN'S WONDER STORIES. 


“Will you dance with me ?”’ asked the Chimney: sweep. 

“You are a nice sort of fellow to dance!” she replied, and 
turned her back upon him. : 

Then she seated herself upon the drawer, and thought that 
one of the flowers would come and ask her ; but not one of 
them came. Then she coughed, “Hem! hem! hem!” but 
for all that not one came. The Chimney-sweep now danced 
all alone, and that was not at all so bad. 

As none of the flowers seemed to notice Sophy, she let her- 
self fall down from the drawer straight upon the floor, so that 
there was a great noise. The flowers now all came running 
up, to ask if she had not hurt herself ; and they were all very 
polite to her, especially the flowers that had lain in her bed. 
But she had not hurt herself at all; and Ida’s flowers all 
thanked her for the nice bed, and were kind to her, took her 
into the middle of the room, where the moon shone in, and 
danced with her; .and all the other flowers formed a circle 
round her. Now Sophy was glad, and said they might keep 
her bed ; she did not at all mind lying in the drawer. 

But the flowers said, “ We thank you heartily, but in any 
way we cannot live long. ‘To-morrow we shall be quite dead. 
But tell little Ida she is to bury us out in the garden, where 
the canary lies ; then we shall wake up again in summer, and 
be far more beautiful.” 

‘““No, you must not die,” said Sophy ; and she kissed the 
flowers. 

Then the room door opened, and a great number of splendid 
flowers came dancing in. Ida could not imagine whence they - 
had come ; these must certainly all be flowers from the king’s 
castle yonder. First of all came two glorious roses, and they 
had little gold crowns on; they were a’king and a queen. 
Then came the prettiest stocks and carnations ; and they 
bowed in all directions. They had music with them. Great 
poppies and peonies blew upon pea-pods till they were quite 
red in the face. The blue hyacinths and the little white snow- 
drops rang just as if they had been bells. That was wonder- 
ful music! Then came many other flowers, and danced all 
together ; the blue violets and the pink primroses, daisies and 
the lilies of the valley. And all the flowers kissed one an- 
other. It was beautiful to look at! 


PIPL RIDA S FLOWERS. 523 


At last the flowers wished one another good-night ; then 
little Ida, too, crept to bed, where she dreamed of all she had 
seen. 

When she rose next morning, she went quickly to the little 
table, to see if the pretty flowers were still there. She drew 
aside the curtains of the little bed ; there were they all, but 
they were quite faded, far more than yesterday. Sophy was 
lying in the drawer where Ida had laid her ; she looked very 
sleepy. | 

“Do you remember what you were to say to me?” asked 
little Ida. 

But Sophy looked quite stupid, and did not say a single 
word. 

“Vou are not good at all!” said Ida. “And yet they all 
danced with you.” 

Then she took a little paper box, on which were painted 
beautiful birds, and opened it, and laid the dead flowers in it. 

“That shall be your pretty coffin,” said she, “and when my 
cousins come to visit me by and by, they shall help me to 
bury you outside in the garden, so that you may grow again in 
summer, and become more beautiful than ever.” 

These cousins were two merry boys. ‘Their names were 
Gustave and Adolphe ; their father had given them two new 
cross-bows, and they had brought these with them to show to 
Ida. She told them about the poor flowers which had died, 
and then they got leave to bury them. ‘The two boys went 
first, with their cross-bows on their shoulders, and little Ida 
followed with the dead flowers in the pretty box. Out in the 
garden a little grave was dug. Ida first kissed the flowers, 
and then laid them in the earth in the box, and Adolphe and 
Gustave shot with their cross-bows over the grave, for they 
had neither guns nor cannons. | 


4) 
Vy) 


/ 


— 


— 


THE FALSE COLLAR: 


HERE was once a fine gentleman, whose whole mov- 

ables were a Boot-jack and a Hair-comb: but he had 
the finest False Collars in the world ; and it is about one of 
these Collars that we are now to hear a story. 

It was so old, that it began to think of marriage ; and it 
happened, that it came to be washed in company with a 
Garter. 

“Nay!” said the Collar, “I never did see anything so 
slender and so fine, so soft and so neat. May I not ask your 
name?” 

“That I shall not tell you!” said the Garter. 

“ Where do you live?” asked the Collar. 

But the Garter was so bashful, so modest, and thought it 
was a strange question to answer. 

“Vou are certainly a girdle,” said the Collar; “that is to 
say, an inside girdle. I see well that you are both for use 
and ornament, my dear young lady.” 

“T will thank you not to speak to me,” said the Garter. 
“T think I have not given the least occasion for it.” 

“Ves! when one is as handsome as you,” said the Collar, 
“that is occasion enough.” 

“Don’t come so near me, I beg of you!” said the Garter. 
“Vou look so much like those men-folks.” 

“Tam also a fine gentleman,” said the Collar. “Ihave a 
Boot-jack and a Hair-comb.” 


THE FALSE COLLAR. 525 


But that was not true, for it was his master who had them: 
but he boasted. 

“Don’t come so near,me,” said the Garter: “I am not ac- 
customed to it.” 

“ Prude!” exclaimed the Collar; and then it was taken 
out of the washing-tub. It was starched, hung over the back 
of a chair in the sunshine, and was then laid on the ironing- 
blanket ; then came the warm box-iron. ‘“ Dear lady!” said 
the Collar. ‘ Dear widow lady! I feel quite hot. I am quite 
changed. I begin to unfold myself. You will burn a hole in 
me. O! I offer you my hand.” 

“Rag! ” said the Box-iron ; and went proudly over the Col- 
lar: for she fancied she was a steam-engine, that should go on 
the railroad and draw the wagons. “Rag!” said the Box- 
iron. 

The Collar was a little jagged at the edge, and so came the 
long Scissors to cut off the jagged part. 

“©!” said the Collar, “you are certainly the first opera 
dancer. How well you can stretch your legs out ! It is the 
most graceful performance I have ever seen. No one can 
imitate you.” 

“ J know it,” said the Scissors. 

“You deserve to be a baroness,” said the Collar. “ All 
that Ihave, is a fine gentleman, a Boot-jack, and a Hair- 
comb. If I only had the barony!” | | 

“Do you seek my hand?” said the Scissors ; for she was 
angry ; and, without. more ado, she cut him, and then he was 
condemned. 

“‘T shall now be obliged to ask the Hair-comb. — It is sur- 
prising how well you preserve your teeth, Miss,” said the Col- 
lar. ‘‘ Have you never thought of being betrothed?” 

“Yes, of course! you may be sure of that,” said the Hair- 
comb. “I am betrothed — to the Boot-jack !” 

“ Betrothed!” exclaimed the Collar. Now there was no 
other to court, and so he despised it. 

A long time passed away, then the Collar came into the rag 
chest at the paper mill; there wasa large company of rags, 
the fine by themselves, and the coarse by themselves, just as it 
should be. They all had much to say, but the Collar the 
most, for he was a real boaster. 


52 6 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


“T have had such an immense number of sweethearts!” said 
the Collar, “I could not be in peace! It is true, I was also a 
fine starched-up gentleman! I had both a Boot-jack and a 
Hair-comb, which I never used! You should have seen me 
then: you should have seen me when I lay down! I shall 
never forget my first love, she was a Girdle, so fine so soft, and 
so charming ; she threw herself into a tub of water for my sake. 
There was also a widow, who became glowing hot, but I left 
her standing till she got black again ; there was also the first 
opera dancer, she gave me that cut which I now go with, she 
was so ferocious! My own Hair-comb was in love with me; 
she lost all her teeth from the heart-ache ; yes I have lived to 
see much of that sort of thing but I am extremely sorry for 
the Garter—I mean the girdle —that went into the water- 
tub. I have much on my conscience ; I want to become white 
paper!” 

And it became so, all the rags were turned into white pa- 
per ; but the collar came to be just this very piece of white paper 
we here see, and on which the story is printed ; and that was 
because it boasted so terribly afterwards of what had never 
happened toit. It would be well for us to beware, that we 
may not act in a similar manner, for we can never know if we 
may not, in the course of time, also come into the rag chest, 
and be made into white paper, and then have our whole life’s 
history printed on it, even the most secret, and be obliged to 
run about and tell it ourselves, just like this Collar 


" 


oy A i 4 to, Mf 
> hd h My 
, ay ¢ J 
et) 


THE LEAP-FROG. 


FLEA, a Grasshopper, and a Leap-frog once wanted to 

see which could jump highest; and they invited the 
whole world, and everybody else besides who chose to come, 
to see the festival. Three famous jumpers were they, as every 
one would say, when they all met together in the room. 

“JT will give my daughter to him who jumps highest,” ex- 
claimed the King ; “for it is not so amusing where there is no 
prize to jump for.” 

The Flea was the first to step forward. He had exquisite 
manners, and bowed to the company on all sides ; for he had 
noble blood, and was, moreover, accustomed to the society of 
man alone ; and that makes a great difference. 

Then came the Grasshopper. He was considerably heavier, 
but he was well-mannered, and wore a green uniform, which 
he had by right of birth ; he said, moreover, that he belonged 
to a very ancient Egyptian family, and that in the house where 
he then was|he was thought much of. The fact was, he had 
been just brought out of the fields, and put in a pasteboard 
house, three stories high, all made of court-cards with the 
colored side inwards ; and doors and windows cut out of the 


wv 


528 / ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES 


body of the Queen of Hearts. “I sing so well,” said he, 
Ut “that sixteen native grasshoppers who have chirped from in- 


yemremewee rena reeset 


ner than they were before for sheer vexation when they heard 


me 99 


It was thus that the Flea and the Grasshopper gave an 
account, of themselves, and thought they were quite good 
enough to marry a princess. 

The Leap-frog said nothing; but people gave it as their 
opinion that he therefore thought the more; and when the 
house-dog snuffed at him with his nose, he confessed the Leap- 
frog was of good family. The old councilor, who had had 

-three orders given him to make him hold his tongue, asserted 
that the Leap-frog was a prophet; for that one could see on 
his back if there would be a severe or mild winter, and that 
was what one could not see even on the back of the man who 
writes the almanac. 

“T say nothing, it is true,” exclaimed the King ; “but I have 


3) ‘ 


t— 


my own opinion notwithstanding. 
Now the trial was to take place. The Flea jumped so high 
that nobody could see where he went to ; so they all asserted he a 
had not jumped at all ; and that was dishonorable. 
The Grasshopper jumped only half as high; but he leaped 
into the King’s face, who said that was ill-mannered. 
The Leap-frog stood still for a long time lost in thought ; it 
was believed at last he would not jump at all. 
_«-“T only hope he is not unwell,” said the House-dog ; when, 
Me pop! he made a jump all on one side into the lap of the 
Princess, who was sitting on a little golden stool close by. 
Hereupon the King said, “There is nothing above my 
daughter ; therefore to bound up to her is the highest jump 
that can be made: but for this, one must possess understand- 
ing, and the Leap-frog has shown that he 4as understanding. 
He is brave and intellectual.” 
And so he won the Princess. 
“Tt’s all the same to me,” said the Flea; “she may have 
H the old Leap-frog, for all I care. I jumped the highest; but 
in this world merit seldom meets its reward. A fine exterior 
is what people look at nowadays.” 


THE LEAP-FROG. : 529 


The Flea then went into foreign service, where, it is said, 
he was killed. 
The Grasshopper sat without on a green bank, and reflected 
on worldly things; and he said too, “Yes, a fine exterior is 
MA H everything —a fine exterior is what people care about.” And 
: then he began chirping his peculiar melancholy song, from 
which we have taken this history ; and which may, very pos- 
sibly, be all untrue, although it does stand here printed in 
black and white. 


34 


WUE 


parton 


(OP Say 
as cia WD = 


THE ANGEL. 


YHENEVER a good child dies, an angel from heaven 
comes down to earth and takes the dead child in his 
arms, spreads out his great white wings, and flies away over 
all the places the child has loved, and picks quite a handful 
of flowers, which he carries up to the Almighty, that they may 
bloom in heaven more brightly than on earth. And the 
Father presses all the flowers to His heart ; but He kisses the 
flower that pleases Him best, and the flower is then endowed 
with a voice, and can join in the great chorus of praise ! 

“See ”— this is what an Angel said, as he carried a dead 
child up to heaven, and the Child heard, as if ina dream ; 
and they went on over the regions of home where. the little 
Child had played, and came through gardens with beautiful 
flowers —“ which of these shall we take with us to plant in 
heaven?” asked the Angel. 

Now, there stood near them a slender, beautiful rose-bush ; 
but a wicked hand had broken the stem, so that all the 
branches, covered with halfopened buds, were hanging 
around, quite withered. 

“The poor rose-bush!” said the Child. “Take it, that it 
may bloom up yonder.” 


THE ANGEL. 531 


And the Angel took it, and kissed the Child, and the little 
one half opened his eyes. They plucked some of the rich 
flowers, but als otook with them the wild pansy and the de- 
spised buttercup. _ 

** Now we have flowers,” said the Child. 

And the Angel nodded, but he did not yet fly upward to 
heaven. It was night and quite silent. They remained in 
the great city; they floated about there in a small street, 
‘where lay whole heaps of straw, ashes, and sweepings, for it 
had been removal day. There lay fragments of plates, bits of 
plaster, rags, and old hats, and all this did not look well. 
And the Angel pointed amid all this confusion to a few frag- 
ments of a flower-pot, and to a lump of earth which had fallen 
out, and which was kept together by the roots of a great dried 
field flower, which was of no use, and had therefore been 
thrown out into the street. 

“We will take that with us,” said the Angel. “TI will tell 
you why, as we fly onward. 

“‘ Down yonder in the narrow lane, in the low cellar, lived a 
poor sick boy ; from his childhood he had been bedridden. 
When he was at his best he could go up and down the room 
a few times, leaning on crutches; that was the utmost he 
could do. For a few days in summer the sunbeams would 
penetrate for'a few hours to the ground of the cellar, and 
when the poor boy sat there and the sun shone on him, and 
he looked at the red blood in his three fingers, as he held 
them up before his face, he would say, ‘ Yes, to-day he has 
been out!’ He knew the forest with its beautiful vernal 
green only from the fact that the neighbor’s little son brought 
him the first green branch of a beech-tree, and he held that 
up over his head, and dreamed he was in the beech wood, 
where the sun shone and the birds sang. On a spring day 
the neighbor’s boy brought him also field flowers, and among 
them was, by chance, one to which the root was still hanging ; 
and so it was planted in a flower-pot, and placed by the bed, 
close to the window. And the flower had been planted by a 
fortunate hand ; and it grew, threw out new shoots, and bore 
flowers every year. It became a splendid flower garden to 
the sickly boy —his little treasure here on earth. He watered 


532 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


it, and tended it, and took care that it had the benefit of 
every ray of sunlight, down to the latest that struggled in 
through the narrow window ; and the flower itself was woven 
into his dreams, for it grew for him and gladdened his eyes, 
and spread its fragrance about him ; and toward it he turned 
in death, when the Father called him. He has now been 
with the Almighty for a year ; for a year the flower has stood 
forgotten in the window, and is withered ; and thus, at the 
removal, it has been thrown out into the dust of the street. 
And this is the poor flower which we have taken into our 
nosegay ; for this flower has given more joy than the richest 
in a queen’s garden.” 

‘“‘ But how do you know all this ?” asked the Child. 

“T know it,” said the Angel, “for I myself was that boy 
who walked on crutches. I know my flower well.” 

And the Child opened his eyes and looked into the glorious, 
happy face of the Angel; and at the same moment they 
entered the regions where there is peace and joy.. And the 
Father pressed the dead Child to His bosom, and then it re- 
ceived wings like the Angel, and flew hand in hand with him. 
And the Almighty kissed the dry withered field flower, and it 
received a voice and sang with all the angels hovering around 
— some near, and some in wider circles, and some in infinite 
distance, but all equally happy. And they all sang — little 
and great, the good, happy Child, and the poor field flower 
that had lain there withered, thrown among the dust. in the 
rubbish of the removal day, in the dark narrow lane. 


THE FLYING TRUNK. 


HERE was once a merchant, who was so rich that he 

.could pave the whole street with gold, and almost have 
enough left for a little lane. But he did not do that; he 
knew how to employ his money differently. When he spent a 
shilling he got back a crown, such a clever merchant was he ; 
and this continued till he died. 

His son now got all this money; and he lived merrily, go- 
ing to the masquerade every evening, making kites out of 
dollar notes, and playing at ducks and drakes on the sea- 
coast with gold pieces instead of pebbles. In this way the 
money might soon be spent, and indeed it was so. At last 
he had no more than four shillings left, and no clothes to 
wear but a pair of slippers and an old dressing-gown. Now 
his friends did not trouble themselves any more about him, as 
they could \not walk with him in the street, but one.of them, 
who was good-natured, sent him an old trunk, with the re- 
mark, “Pack up!” Yes, that was all very well, but he had 
nothing to pack, therefore he seated himself in the trunk. 

That was a wonderful trunk. So soon as any one pressed 
the lock the trunk could fly. He pressed it, and zAzrr/ away 
flew the trunk with him through the chimney and over the 


Bon ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


clouds, farther and farther away. But as often as the bottom 
of the trunk cracked a little he was in great fear lest it might 
go to pieces, and then he would have flung a fine somersault! 
In that way he came to the land of the Turks. He hid the 
trunk in a wood under some dry leaves, and then went into 
the town. He could do that very well, for among the Turks 
all the people went about dressed like himself in dressing- 
gown and slippers. ‘Then he met a nurse with a little child. 

“Here, you Turkish nurse,’ he began, “what kind of a | 
ereat castle is that close by the town, in which the windows 
are so high up?” 

“There dwells the Sultan’s daughter,” replied she. “It is 
prophesied that she will be very unhappy respecting a lover ; 
and therefore nobody may go near her, unless the Sultan and 
Sultana are there too.” 

“Thank you!” said the Merchant’s Son ; and he went out 
into the forest, seated himself in his trunk, flew on the roof, 
and crept through the window into the Princess’s room. 

She was lying asleep on the sofa, and she was so beautiful 
that the Merchant’s Son was compelled:to kiss her. Then she - 
awoke, and was startled very much; but he said he was a 
Turkish angel who had come down to her through the air, and 
that pleased her. 

They sat down side by side, and he told her stories about 
her eyes ; and he told her they were the most glorious dark 
lakes, and that thoughts were swimming about in them like 
mermaids. And he told her about her forehead ; that it was 
a snowy mountain with the most splendid halls and pictures. 
And he told her about the stork who brings the lovely little 
children. 

Yes, those were fine histories!, ‘Then he asked the Princess 
if she would marry him, and she said “ Yes,” directly. 

“But you must come here on Saturday,” said she. ‘ Then 
the Sultan and Sultana will be here to tea. They will be very 
proud that I am to marry a Turkish angel. But take care 
that you know a very pretty story, for both my parents are 
very fond indeed of stories. My mother likes them high-flown 
and moral, but my father likes them merry, so that one can 
laugh.” 


THE FLYING TRUNK, 535 


“ Ves, I shall bring no marriage gift but a story,” said he ; 
and so they parted. But the Princess gave him a sabre, the 
sheath embroidered with gold pieces, and that was very use 
ful to him. 

Now he flew away, bought a new dressing-gown, and sat in 
the forest and made up a story ; it was to be ready by Satur- 
day, and that was not an easy thing. 

By the time he had finished it Saturday had come. The 
Sultan and his wife and all the court were at the Princess’s to 
tea. He was received very graciously. 

“Will you relate us a story?” said the Sultana; “one that 
is deep and edifying.” 

“Yes, but one that we can laugh at,” said the Sultan. 

“ Certainly,” he replied ; and so began. And_ now listen 
well. 7 

“There was once a bundle of Matches, and these Matches 
were particularly proud of their high descent. ‘Their genea- 
logical tree, that is to say, the great fir-tree of which each of 
them was a little splinter, had been a great old tree out in the 
forest. ‘The Matches now lay between a Tinder-box and an 
old Iron Pot; and they were telling about the days of their 
youth. ‘Yes, when we were upon the green boughs,’ they 
said, ‘then we really were upon the green boughs! Every 
morning and evening there was diamond tea for us, — I mean 
dew ; we had sunshine all day long whenever the sun shone, 
and all the little birds had to tell stories. We could see very 
well that we were rich, for the other trees were only dressed 
out in summer, while our family had the means to wear green 
dresses in the winter as well. But then the wood-cutter came, 
like a great revolution, and our family was broken up. The 
head of the family got an appointment as mainmast in a first- 
rate ship, which could sail round the world if necessary ; the 
other branches went to other places, and now we have the 
office of kindling a light for the vulgar herd. ‘That’s how we 
grand people came to be in the kitchen.’ 

“<My fate was of different kind,’ said the Iron Pot, which 
stood next to the Matches. ‘From the beginning, ever since 
I came into the world, there has been a great deal of scouring 
and cooking done in me. I look after the practical part, and 


5 36 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


am the first here in the house. My only pleasure is to sit in 
my place after dinner, very clean and neat, and to carry ona 
sensible conversation with my comrades. But except the 
Water-pot, which is sometimes taken down into the court-yard, 
we always live within our four walls. Our only newsmonger 
is the Market Basket ; but he speaks very uneasily about the 
government and the people. Yes, the other day there was an 
old pot that fell down, from fright, and burst. He’s liberal, I 
can tell you!’--‘ Now you’re talking too much,’ the Tinder- 
box interrupted, and the steel struck against the flint, so that 
sparks flew out. ‘Shall we not have a merry evening?’ 

“<Ves, let us talk about who is the grandest,’ said the 
Matches. 

“No, I don’t like to talk about myself,’ retorted the Pot. 
‘Let us get up an evening entertainment. I will begin. I 
will tell a story from real life, something that every one has 
experieaced, so that we can easily imagine the situation, and 
take pleasure in it. On the Baltic, by the Danish shore ’— 

“«That’s a pretty beginning!’ cried all the Plates. ‘That 
will be a story we shall like.’ 

“¢Yes, it happened to mein my youth, when I lived ina 
family where the furniture was polished, the floors scoured, 
and new curtains were put up every fortnight.’ 

““«What an interesting way you have of telling a story!’ 
said the Carpet Broom. ‘One can tell directly that a man is 
speaking who has been in woman’s society. There’s some- 
thing pure runs through it.’ 

“And the Pot went on telling his story, and the end was as 
good as the beginning. 

“All the Plates rattled with joy, and the Carpet Broom 
brought some green parsley out of the dust-hole, and put it 
like a wreath on the Pot, for he knew that it would vex the 
others. ‘If I crown him to-day,’ it thought, ‘he will crown me 
to-morrow.’ 7 

“Now I'll dance,’ said the Fire Tongs ; and they danced. 
Preserve us! how that implement could lift up one leg! ‘The 
old chair-cushion burst to see it. ‘Shall I be crowned too?’ 
thought the Tongs ; and indeed a wreath was awarded. 

“<Theyre only common people, after all!’ thought the 
Matches. 


THE PL SING LRN, 537 


* Now the Tea-urn was to sing ; but she said she had taken 
cold, and could not sing unless she felt boiling within. But 
that was only affectation: she did not want to sing, except 
when she was in the parlor with the grand people. 

“In the window sat an old Quill Pen, with which the maid 
generally wrote: there was nothing remarkable about this pen, 
except that it had been dipped too deep into the ink, but she 
was proud of that. ‘Ifthe Tea-urn won’t sing,’ she said, ‘she 
may leave it alone. Outside hangs a nightingale in a cage, and 
he can sing. He hasn’t had any education, but this evening 
we'll say nothing about that.’ 

“¢T think it very wrong,’ said the Tea-kettle — he was the 
kitchen singer, and half-brother to the Tea-urn—‘that that 
rich and foreign bird should be listened to! Is that patri- 
otic? Let the Market Basket decide.’ ; 

““<T am vexed,’ said the Market Basket. ‘No one can 
imagine how much I am secretly vexed. Is that a proper way 
of spending the evening? Would it not be more sensible to 
put the house in order? Let each one go tohis own place, 
and I will arrange the whole game. That would be quite 
another thing.’ 

“¢ Yes, let us make a disturbance,’ cried they all. Then the 
door opened, and the maid came in, and they all stood still ; 
not one stirred.. But there was not one pot among them who 
did not know what he could do, and how grand he was. ‘ Yes, 
if I had liked,’ each one thought, ‘it might have been a very 
merry evening.’ 

“The servant girl took the Matches and lighted the fire 
with them. Mercy! how they sputtered and burst out into 
flame! ‘ Now every one can see,’ thought they, ‘that we are 
the first. How we shine! what a light!’—and they burned 
out.” 

“That was a capital story,” said the Sultana. “TI feel my- 
self quite carried away to the kitchen, to the Matches. Yes, 
now thou shalt marry our daughter.” 

“Yes, certainly,” said the Sultan, “thou shalt marry our 
daughter on Monday.” 

And they called him ¢ou, because he was to belong to the 
family. 


538 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


The wedding was decided on, and on the evening before it 
the whole city was illuminated. Biscuits and cakes were 
thrown among the people, the street boys stood on their toes, 
called out “ Hurrah!” and whistled on their fingers. It was 
uncommonly splendid. 

“Ves, I shall have to give something as a treat,” thought 
the Merchant’s Son. So he bought rockets and crackers, and 
every imaginable sort of fire-work, put them all into his trunk, 
and flew up into the air. ; 

“Crack!” how they went, and how they went off! All the 
Turks hopped up with such a start that their slippers flew 
about their ears; such a meteor they had never yet seen. 
Now they could understand that it must be a Turkish angel 
who was going to marry the Princess. 

What stories people tell! Every one whom he asked about 
it had seen it in a separate way; but one and all thought it 
fine. 

“T saw the Turkish angel himself,” said one. ‘‘ He had 
eyes like glowing stars, and a beard like foaming water.” 

“He flew up ina fiery mantle,” said another; “the most 
lovely little cherub peeped forth from among the folds.” 

Yes, they were wonderful things that he heard; and on the 
following day he was to be married. 

Now he went back to the forest to rest himself in his trunk. 
But what had become of that? A spark from the fire-works 
had set fire to it, and the trunk was burned to ashes. He 
could not fly any more, and could not get to his bride. 

She stood all day on the roof waiting ; and most likely she 
is waiting still. But he wanders through the world, telling 
fairy tales ; but they are not so merry as that one he told 
about the Matches. 


Ss ok Wy AS v; 
ee AY 
a ‘i 


EN \SSaRS 
Spd 


THE TINDER-BOX. 


HERE came a Soldier marching along the high road 

_—one, two! one,two! We had his knapsack on his 
back and a sabre by his side, for he had been in the wars, and 
now he wanted to go home. And on the way he met with an 
old Witch: she was very hideous, and her under lip hung 
down upon her breast. She said, “Good evening, Soldier. 
What a fine sword you have, and what a big knapsack! You're 
a proper soldier! Now you shall have as much money as 
you like to have.” 

““T thank you, you old Witch!” said the Soldier. 

“Do you see that great tree?” quoth the Witch ; and she 
pointed to a tree which stood beside them. “It’s quite hol- 
low inside. You must climb to the top, and then you'll see a 
hole, through which you can let yourself down and get deep 
into the tree. J’ll tie a rope round your body, so that I can 
pull you up again when you call me.” 

“What am I to do down in the tree?” asked the Soldier. 

“Get money,” replied the Witch. ‘Listen to me. When 
you come down to the earth under the tree, you will find 


540 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


yourself in a great hall: it is quite light, for above three hun- 
dred lamps are burning there. Then you will see three 
doors ; these you can open, for the keys are hanging there. 
If you go into the first chamber, you'll see a great chest in the 
middle of the floor ; on this chest sits a dog, and he’s got a 
pair of eyes as big as two tea-cups. But you need not care 
for that. I'll give you my blue checked apron, and you can 
spread it out upon the floor ; then go up quickly and take the 
dog, and set him on my apron; then open the chest, and take 
as many shillings as you like. They are of copper: if you 
prefer silver, you must go into the second chamber. But 
there sits a dog with a pair of eyes as big as mill-wheels. 
But do not you care for that. Set him upon my apron, and 
take some of the money. And if you want gold, you can have 
that too — in fact, as much as you can carry —if you go into 
the third chamber. But the dog that sits on the money-chest 
there has two eyes as big as round towers. He is a fierce 
dog, you may be sure ; but you needn’t be afraid, for all that. 
Only set him on my apron, and he won’t hurt you; and take . 
out of the chest as much gold as you like.” 

“‘'That’s not so bad,” said the Soldier. ‘“ But what am I to 
give you, you old Witch? for you will not do it for nothing, I 
fancy.” 

“No,” replied the Witch, “not a single shilling will I have. 
You shall only bring me an old Tinder-box which my grand- 
mother forgot when she was down there last.” 

“Then tie the rope round my body,” cried the Soldier. 

“Here it is,” said the Witch, “and here’s my blue checked 
apron.” 

Then the Soldier climbed up into the tree, let himself slip 
down into the hole, and stood, as the Witch had said, in the 
great hall where the three hundred lamps were burning. 

Now he opened the first door. Ugh! there sat the dog 
with eyes as big as tea-cups, staring at him. ‘ You’re a nice 
fellow!” exclaimed the Soldier ; and he set him on the Witch’s 
apron, and took as many copper shillings as his pockets would 
hold, and then locked the chest, set the dog on it again, and 
went into the second chamber. Aha! there sat the dog with 
eyes as big as mill-wheels. 


THE TINDER-BOX. 541 


“Vou should not stare so hard at me,” said the Soldier ; 
“you might strain your eyes.” And he set the dog upon the 
Witch’s apron. And when he saw the silver money in the 
chest, he threw away all the copper money he had, and filled 
his pockets and his knapsack with silver only. Then he 
went into the third chamber. O, but that was horrid! The 
dog there really had eyes as big as towers, and they turned 
round and round in his head like wheels. 

“Good evening!” said the Soldier; and he touched his 
cap, for he had never seen such a dog as that before. When 
he had looked at him a little more closely, he thought, “ That 
will do,” and lifted him down to the floor, and opened the 
chest. Mercy! what a quantity of gold was there! He could 
buy with it the whole town, and the sugar sucking-pigs of the 
cake woman, and all the tin soldiers, whips, and rocking- 
horses in the whole world. Yes, that was a quantity of money! 
Now the Soldier threw away all the silver coin with which he 
had filled his pockets and his knapsack, and took gold in- — 
stead: yes, all his pockets, his knapsack, his boots, and his 
cap were filled, so that he could scarcely walk. -Now indeed 
he had plenty of money. He put the dog on the chest, shut 
the door, and then called up through the tree, “ Now pull me 
up, you old Witch.” 

“‘ Have you the Tinder-box ?” asked the Witch. 

“Plague onit!” exclaimed the Soldier, “I had clean for- 
gotten that.” And he went and brought it. 

The Witch drew him up, and he stood on the high road 
again, with pockets, boots, knapsack, and cap full of gold. 

“What are you going to do with the Tinder-box?” asked the 
Soldier. 

“ That’s nothing to you,” retorted the Witch. “ You’ve had 
your money ; just give me the Tinder-box.” 


“Nonsense!” said the Soldier. “Tell me directly what 
you're going to do with it or ’ll draw my sword and cut off 
your head.” 


“No!” cried the Witch. 

So the Soldier cut off her head. There she lay! But he 
tied up all his money in her apron, took it on his back like a 
bundle, put the Tinder-box in his pocket, and went straight off 
toward the town. 


542 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


That was a splendid town! And he put up at the very 
best inn, anid asked for the finest rooms, and ordered his 
favorite dishes, for now he was rich, as he had so much 
money. The servant who had to clean his boots certainly 
thought them a remarkably old pair for sucha rich gentleman ; 
but he had not bought any new ones yet. The next day he 
procured proper boots and handsome clothes. Now our Sol- 
dier had become a fine gentleman ; and the people told him 
of all the splendid things which were in their city, and about 
the King, and what a pretty Princess the King’s daughter was. 

‘“‘Where can one get to see her?” asked the Soldier. 

“She is not to be seen at all,” said they all together ; “she 
lives in a great copper castle, with a great many walls and 
towers round about it: no one but the king may go in and out 
there, for it has been prophesied that she shall marry a com- 
mon soldier, and the King can’t bear that.” 

““T should like to see her,” thought the Soldier ; but he 
could not get leave to do so. Now he lived merrily, went to 
the theatre, drove in the King’s garden, and gave much money 
to the poor ; and this was very kind of him, for he knew from 
old times how hard it is when one has nota shiliing. Now 
he was rich, had fine clothes, and gained many friends, who 
all said he was a rare one, a true cavalier ; and that pleased 
the Soldier well. But as he spent money every day and never 
earned any, he had at last only two shillings left ; and he was 
obliged to turn out of the fine rooms in which he had dwelt, 
and had to live in a little garret under the roof, and clean 
his boots for himself, and mend them with a darning-needle 
None of his friends came to see him, for there were too many 
stairs to climb. 

It was quite dark one evening, and he could not even buy 
himself a candle, when it occurred to him that there was a 
candle-end in the Tinder-box which he had taken out of the 
hollow tree into which the Witch had helped him. He brought 
out the Tinder-box and the candle end ; but as soon as he struck 
fire and the sparks rose up from the flint, the door flew open, 
and the dog who had, eyes as big as a couple of tea-cups, and 
whom he had seen in the tree, stood before him, and said, — 

“What are my lord’s commands?” 


THE TINDER-BCX. 543 


“What is this?” said the Soldier. “That’s a famous Tinder- 
box, if I can get everything with it that I want! Bring me 
some money,” said he to the dog; and whisk/ the dog was 
gone, and wzsk / he was back again, with a great bag full of 
shillings in his mouth. 

Now the Soldier knew what a capital Tinder-box this was. 
If he struck it once, the dog came who sat, upon the chest of 
copper money ; if he struck it twice, the dog came who had 
the silver; and if he struck it three times, then appeared the 
dog who had the gold. Now the Soldier moved back into the 
fine rooms, and appeared again in handsome clothes ; and all 
his friends knew him again, and cared very much for him 
indeed. 

Once he thought to himself, “ It is a very strange thing that 
one cannot. get to see the Princess. They all say she is very 
beautiful; but what is the use of that, if she has always to sit 
in the great copper castle with the many towers? Can I not 
get to see her at all? Where is my Tinder-box?” And so 
he struck a light, and w/zsk/ came the dog with eyes as big 
as tea-cups. 

“Tt is midnight, certainly,” said the Soldier, “but I should 
very much like to see the Princess, only for one little moment.” 

And the dog was outside the door directly, and, before the 
Soldier thought it, came back with the Princess. She sat upon 
the dog’s back and slept; and every one could see she was a 
real princess, for she was so lovely. The Soldier could not 
refrain from kissing her, for he was a thorough soldier. Then 
the dog ran back again with the Princess. But when morning 
came, and the King and Queen were drinking tea, the Princess 
said she had had a strange dream the night before, about a 
dog and a soldier —that she had ridden upon the dog, and 
the soldier had kissed her. 

“That would be a fine history!” said the Queen. 

So one of the old court ladies had to watch the next night 
by the Princess’s bed, to see if this was really a dream, or what 
it might be. 

The Soldier had a great longing to see the lovely Princess 
again ; so the dog came in the night, took her away, and ran 
as fast as he could. But the old lady put on water-boots, and 


544 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


ran just as fast after him. When she saw that they both 
entered a great house, she thought, “ Now I know where it is ;” 
and with a bit of chalk she drew a great cross on the door. 
Then she went home and lay down, and the dog came up with 
the Princess ; but when he saw that there was a cross drawn 
on the door where the Soldier lived, he took a piece of chalk 
too, and drew crosses on all the doors in the town. And that 
was cleverly done, for now the lady could not find the right 
door, because all the doors had crosses upon*them. 

In the morning early came the King and the Queen, the old 
court lady and all the officers, to see where it was the Princess 
had been. “Here it is!” said the King, when he saw the first 
door with a cross upon it. ‘No, my dear husband, it is 
there!” said the Queen, who descried another door which also 
showed a cross. ‘But there is one, and there is one!” said 
all, for wherever they looked there were crosses on the doors. 
So they saw that it would avail them nothing if they searched 
on. 

But the Queen was an exceedingly clever woman, who could 
do more than ride in a coach. She took her great gold scis- 
sors, cut a piece of silk into pieces, and made a neat little 
bag; this bag she filled with fine wheat flour, and tied it on 
the Princess’s back ; and when that was done, she cut a little 
hole in the bag, so that the flour would be scattered along all 
the way which the Princess should take. | 

In the night the dog came again, took the Princess on his 
back, and ran with her to the Soldier, who loved her very 
much, and would gladly have been a prince, so that he might 
have her for his wife. The dog did not notice at all how the 
flour ran. out ina stream from the castle to the windows of 
the Soldier’s house, where he ran up the wall with the Prin- 
cess. In the morning the King and the Queen saw well 
enough where their daughter had been, and they took the Sol- 
dier and put him in prison. 

There he sat. O, but it was dark and disagreeable there! 
And they said to him, “To-morrow you shall be hanged.” 
That was not amusing to hear, and he had left his Tinder-box 
at the inn. In the morning he could see, through the iron 
grating of the little window, how the people were hurrying out 


THE TINDER-BOX. 545 


of the town to see him hanged. He heard the drums beat 
and saw the soldiers marching. All the people were running 
out, and among them was a shoemaker’s boy with leather 
apron and slippers, and he galloped so fast that one of his 
slippers flew off, and came right against the wall where the 
Soldier sat looking through the iron grating. 

“ Halloo, you shoemaker’s boy! you, needn’t be in such a 
hurry,” cried the Soldier to him: “it will not begin till I come. 
But if you will run to where I lived, and bring me my Tinder- 
box, you shall have four shillings: but you must put your best 
leg foremost.” 

The shoemaker’s boy wanted to get the four shillings, so he 
went and brought the Tinder-box, and —well, we shall hear 
now what happened. | 

Outside the town a great gallows had been built, and round 
it stood the soldiers and many hundred thousand people. 
The King and Queen sat on a splendid throne, opposite to the 
judges and the whole council. ‘The Soldier already stood upon 
the ladder ; but as they were about to put the rope round his 
neck, he said that before a poor criminal suffered his punish- 
ment an innocent request was always granted to him. He 
wanted very much to smoke a pipe of tobacco, and it would be 
the last pipe he should smoke in the world. The King would 
not say “No” to this ; so the Soldier took his Tinder-box, and 
struck fire. One—two,— three !— and there suddenly stood 
all the dogs—the one with eyes as big as tea-cups, the one 
with eyes as large as mill-wheels, and the one whose eyes were 
as big as round towers. 

“Help me now, so that I may not be hanged,” said the 
Soldier. 

And the dogs fell upon the judges and all the council, seized 
one by the leg and another by the nose, and tossed them all 
_ many feet into the air, so that they fell down and were all 
broken to pieces. 

“JT won't!” cried the King; but the biggest dog took him 
and the Queen, and threw them after the others. Then the 
soldiers were afraid, and the people cried, “ Little Soldier, you 
shall be our king, and marry the beautiful Princess ! ” 

So they put the Soldier into the King’s coach, and all the 

35 


546 ANDERSEN'S WONDER STORIES. 


three dogs darted on in front and cried “ Hurrah!” and the 
boys whistled through their fingers, and the soldiers presented 
arms. The Princess came out of the copper castle, and be- 
came Queen, and she liked that well enough. The wedding 
lasted a week, and the three dogs sat at the table too, and 
opened their eyes wider than ever at all they saw. 


( | 
AGES 


( iy ay 


a 


ae ~ g 
of YS Z SS 
Bp ee SSS 
BERS 


THE BUCKWHEAT. 


FTEN, after a thunder-storm, when one passes a field in 

which buckwheat is growing, it appears quite blackened 
and singed. It is just as if a flame of fire had passed across 
it; and then the countryman says, “It got that from lght- 
ning.” But whence has it received that? I will tell you 
what the sparrow told me about it, and the sparrow heard it 
from an old willow-tree which stood by a buckwheat field, and 
still stands there. It is quite a great venerable Willow-tree, 
but crippled and old: it is burst in the middle, and grass and 
brambles grow out of the cleft; the tree bends forward, and 
the branches hang quite down to the ground, as if they were 
long green hair. 

On all the fields round about corn was growing, not only 
rye and barley, but also oats ; yes, the most capital oats, which 
when ripe, looks like a number of little yellow canary birds 
sitting upon a spray. The corn stood smiling, and the richer 
an ear was the deeper did it bend in pious humility. 

But there was also a field of buckwheat, and this field was 
exactly opposite to the old Willow-tree. ‘The Buckwheat did 


548 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


not bend at all, like the rest of the grain, but stood up proudly 
and stiffly. | 

“T’m as rich as any corn-ear,” said he. “ Moreover, I’m 
very much handsomer: my flowers are beautiful as the blos- 
soms of the apple-tree: it’s quite a delight to look upon me 
and mine. Do you know anything more splendid than we 
are, you old Willow-tree 2” 

And the Willow-tree nodded his head, just as if he would 
have said, “ Yes, that’s true enough!” 

But the Buckwheat spread itself out from mere vainglory, 
and said, “The stupid tree! he’s so old that the grass grows 
in his body.” 

Now a terrible storm came on: all the field flowers folded 
their leaves together or bowed their little heads while the 
storm passed over them, but the Buckwheat stood erect in its 
pride. 

“ Bend your head Jike us,” said the Flowers. 

“T’ve not the slightest cause to do so,” replied the Buck- 
wheat. 

“Bend your head as we do,” cried the various Crops. ‘ Now 
the Storm comes flying on. He has wings that reach from 
the clouds just down to the earth, and he’ll beat you in halves 
before you can cry for mercy.” 

“Ves, but I won’t bend,” quoth the Buckwheat. 

“Shut up your flowers and bend your leaves,” said the old 
Willow-tree. ‘ Don’t look up at the lightning when the cloud 
bursts: even men do not do that, for in the lightning one 
may look into heaven, but the light dazzles even men ; and 
what would happen to us, if we dared do so —we, the plants 
of the field, that are much less worthy than they?” 

“Much less worthy!” cried the Buckwheat. “Now I'll 
just look straight up into heaven.” 

And it did so, in its pride and vainglory. It was as if the 
whole world were on fire, so vivid was the lightning. 

When afterwards the bad weather had passed by, the flow- 
ers and the crops stood in the still, pure air, quite refreshed 
by the rain ; but the Buckwheat was burned coal-black by the 
lightning, and it was now like a dead weed upon the field. 

And the old Willow-tree waved its branches in the wind, 


THE BUCKWHEAT. | 549 


and great drops of water fell down out of oes green leaves, 
just as if the tree wept. 

And the Sparrows asked, “ Why do you weep? Here every- 
thing is so cheerful: see how the sun shines: see how the 
clouds sail on. Do you not breathe the scent of flowers and 
bushes ? Why do you weep, Willow-tree ?” 

And the Willow-tree told them of the pride of the Buck- 
wheat, of its vainglory, and of the punishment which always 
follows such sin. 

I, who tell you this tale, have heard it from the sparrows. 
They told it me one evening when I begged them to give me 
a story. 


EE eet 


THE BECL. 


EOPLE said, “ The evening-bell is sounding, the sun 

is setting.” A strange wondrous tone was heard in the 

narrow streets of a large town. It was like the sound of a 

church-bell : but it was only heard for a moment, for the roll- 

ing of the carriages, and the voices of the multitude made too 
great a noise. 

Those persons who were walking without the town, where 
the houses were further apart, with gardens or little fields be- 
tween them, couldssee the evening sky still better, and heard 
the sound of the bell much more distinctly. It was as if the 
tones came from a church in the still forest ; people looked 
thitherward, and felt their minds attuned most solemnly. 

A long time passed, and people said to each other, — “TI 
wonder if there is a church out in the wood? ‘The bell has a 
tone that is wondrous sweet ; let us stroll thither, and exam- 
ine the matter nearer.” And the rich people drove out, and 
the poor walked, but the way seemed strangely long to them ; 
and when they came to a clump of willows which grew on the 
skirts of the forest, they sat down, and looked up at the long 
branches, and fancied they were now in the depth of the green 


THE BELL. 551 


wood. The confectioner of the town came out, and set up 
his booth there; and soon after came another confectioner, 
who hung a bell over his stand, as a sign or ornament, but it 
had no clapper, and it was tarred over to preserve it from the 
rain. When all the people returned home, they said it had 
been very romantic, and that it was quite a different sort of 
thing to a picnic or tea-party. There were three persons who 
asserted they had penetrated to the end of the forest, and that 
they had always heard the wonderful sounds of the bell, but 
it had seemed to them as if it had come from the town. One 
wrote a whole poem about it, and said the bell sounded like 
the voice of a mother to a good dear child, and that no mel- 
ody was sweeter than the tones of the bell. The king of the 
country was also observant of it, and vowed that he who could 
discover whence the sounds proceeded, should have the title 
of “ Universal Bell-ringer,” even if it were not really a bell. 

Many persons now went to the wood, for the sake of get- 
ting the place, but one only returned with a sort of explana- 
tion ; for nobody went far enough, that one not farther than 
the others. However, he said that the sound proceeded from 
a very large owl, in a hollow tree; a sort of learned owl, 
that continually knocked its head against the branches. But 
whether the sound came from his head or from the hollow tree, 
that, no one could say with certainty. So now he got the 
place of “ Universal Bell-ringer,” and wrote yearly a short 
treatise ‘On the Owl ;” but everybody was just as wise as 
before. 

It was the day of Confirmation. The clergyman had spoken 
so touchingly, the children who were confirmed had been 
greatly moved ; it was an eventful day for them ; from chil- 
dren they became all at once grown-up persons ; it was as if 
their infant souls were now to fly all at once into persons with 
more understanding. The sun was shining gloriously ; the 
children that had been confirmed went out of the town, and 
from the wood was borne toward them the sounds of the un- 
known bell with wonderful distinctness. They all immedi- 
ately felt a wish to go thither ; all except three. One of them 
had to go home to try on a ball-dress, for it was just the 
dress and the ball which had caused her to be confirmed this 


552 ANDERSEN’S WONDER STORIES. 


time, for otherwise she would not have come; the other was a 
poor boy, who had borrowed his coat and boots to be con- 
firmed in from the innkeeper’s son, and he was to give them 
back by a certain hour ; the third said that he never went to 
a strange place if his parents were not with him ; that he had 
always been a good boy hitherto, and would still be so now 
that he was confirmed, and that one ought not to laugh at him 
for it: the others, however, did make fun of him, after all. 

There were three, therefore, that did not go; the others 
hastened on. The sun shone, the birds sang, and the children 
sang too, and each held the other by the hand ; for as yet they 
had none of them any high office, and were all of equal rank 
in the eye of God. 

But two of the youngest soon grew tired, and both returned 
to town ; two little girls sat down, and twined garlands, so 
they did not go either ; and when the others reached the wil- 
low-tree, where the confectioner was, they said, ‘ Now we are 
there! . In reality the bell does not exist ; it is only a fancy 
that people have taken into their heads!” 

At the same moment the bell sounded deep in the wood, so 
clear and solemnly that five or six determined to: penetrate 
somewhat further. It was so thick, and the foliage so dense 
that it was quite fatiguing to proceed. Woodroof and anem- 
ones grew almost too high; blooming convolvuluses and 
blackberry-bushes hung in long garlands from tree to tree, 
where the nightingale sang and the sunbeams were playing: 
it was very beautiful, but it was no place for girls to go ; their 
clothes would get so torn. Large blocks of stone lay there, 
overgrown with moss of every color ; the fresh spring bubbled 
forth, and made a strange gurgling sound. 

“That surely cannot be the bell,” said one of the children, 
lying down and listening ; “this must be looked to.” So he 
remained, and let the others go on without him. 

They afterwards came to a little house, made of branches 
and the bark cf trees ; a large wild apple-tree bent over it, as 
if it would shower down all its blessings on the roof, where 
roses were blooming. The long stems twined round the gable, 
on which there hung a small bell. 

Was it that which people had heard? Yes: everbody was 


IY» Malin eWay By be S54 


unanimous on the subject, except one, who said that the bell 
was too small and too fine to be heard at so great a distance, 
and besides, it had very different tones from those that could 
move a human heart in such a manner. It was a king’s son 
who spoke; whereon the others said, “ Such people always 
want to be wiser than everybody else.” 

They now let him go on alone ; and as he went, his breast 
was filled more and more with \the forest solitude ; but he still 
heard the little bell with which the others were so satisfied, 
and now and then, when the wind blew, he could also hear 
the people singing who were sitting at tea where the confec- 
tioner had his tent; but the deep sound of the bell rose 
louder ; it was almost as if an organ were accompanying it, 
and the tones came from the left hand, the side where the 
heart is placed. A rustling was heard in the bushes, and a 
little boy stood before the King’s Son ; a boy in wooden shoes, 
and with so short a jacket that one could see what long wrists 
he had. Both knew each other ; the boy was that one among 
the children who could not come because he had to go home 
and return his jacket and boots to the innkeeper’s son. This 
he had done, and was now going on in wooden shoes and in 
his humbler dress, for the bell sounded with so deep a tone, 
and with such strange power, that proceed he must. 

“Why, then, we can go together,” said the King’s Son. 
But the poor child that had been confirmed was quite ashamed ; 
he looked at his wooden shoes, pulled at the short sleeves of 
his jacket, and said, “ He was afraid he could not walk so 
fast ; besides, he thought that the bell must be looked for to 
the right ; for that was the place where all sorts of beautiful 
things were to be found.” 

“ But there we shall not meet,” said the King’s Son, nod- 
ding at the same time to the Poor Boy, who went into the 
darkest, thickest part of the wood, where thorns tore his humble 
dress, and scratched his face, and hands, and feet, till they bled. 
The King’s Son got some scratches, too ; but the sun shone 
on his path, and it is him that we will follow, for he was an 
excellent and resolute youth. . 

“I must and will find the bell,” said he, “even if I am 
obliged to go to the end of the world.” 


554 ANDERSEN'S WONDER STORIES. 


The ugly apes sat upon the trees, and grinned. “Shall we 
thrash him?” said they; “shall we thrash him? He is the 
son of a king!” 

But on he went, without being disheartened, deeper and 
deeper into the wood, where the most wonderful flowers were 
growing. ‘There stood white lilies with blood-red stamens ; 
sky-blue tulips, which shone as they waved in the winds ; and 
apple-trees, the apples of which looked exactly like large soap- 
bubbles: so only think how the trees must have sparkled in 
the sunshine! Around the nicest green meads, where the 
deer were playing in the grass, grew magnificent oaks and 
beeches ; and if the bark of one of the trees was cracked, 
there grass and long creeping plants grew in the crevices. 
And there were large, calm lakes there too, in which white 
swans were swimming, and beat the air with their wings. The 
King’s Son often stood still and listened. He thought the 
bell sounded from the depths of these still lakes ; but then he 
remarked again that the tone proceeded not from there, but 
farther off, from out the depths of the forest. 

The sun now set ; the atmosphere glowed like fire. It was 
still in the woods, so very still; and he fell on his knees, sung 
his evening hymn, and said: “I cannot find what I seek ; the 
sun is going down, and night is coming — the dark, dark night. 
Yet perhaps I may be able once more to see the round, red 
sun before he entirely disappears. I will climb up yonder 
rock.” 

And he seized hold of the creeping-plants, and the roots of 
trees, — climbed up the moist stones where the water-snakes 
were writhing and the toads were croaking —and he gained 
the summit before the sun had quite gone down. How mag- 
nificent was the sight from this height! The sea — the great, 
the glorious sea, that dashed its long waves against the coast 
— was stretched out before him. And yonder, where sea and 
sky meet, stood the sun, like a large, shining altar, all melted 
together in the most glowing colors. And the wood and the 
sea sang a song of rejoicing, and his heart sang with the rest: 
all nature was a vast, holy church, in which the trees and the 
buoyant clouds were the pillars, flowers and grass the velvet 
carpeting, and heaven itself the large cupola. ‘The red colors 


THEVBELSL: 555 


above faded away as the sun vanished, but a million stars were 
lighted, a million lamps shone; and the King’s Son spread ° 
out his arms toward heaven, and wood, and sea; when at 
the same moment, coming by a path to the right, appeared, in 
his wooden shoes and jacket, the Poor Boy who had been con- 
firmed with him. He had followed his own path, and had 
reached the spot just as soon as the Son of the King had done. 
They ran toward each other, and stood together, hand in 
hand, in the vast church of nature and of poetry, while over 
them sounded the invisible, holy bell ; blessed spirits floated 
around them, and lifted up their voices in a rejoicing hallelu- 
jah! 


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